A Fairy Tale
by CSI Clue
Summary: Tony learns he's got something extra in his DNA.
1. Chapter 1

Prolog

Howard Anthony Stark was a man who kept his promises.

He'd been raised to do so, and knew from hard experience that the consequences of NOT keeping pledges were often worse than failing to make them. His cautious nature insured that he made very few in his lifetime, but those he did, he kept.

And yet this one, _this_ one was troubling to his very soul.

Maria smiled at him, her eyes luminous with love, long dark curls shining in the moonlight, and in that moment, Howard's trepidation lessened. So what if the pledge seemed based on future events not yet determined? No one could know what lay ahead, and making a promise based on the airy unforeseen in exchange for true and beautiful happiness in this moment seemed . . . a bargain.

"Yes," Howard murmured. The word hung in the still air of the night, taking on weight and solemnity, until the echo of it seemed to vibrate through the fiber of each leaf; the solid grain of every stone.

In the glade, bright eyes glowed all around, and the company nodded as one, well-satisfied with the arrangement. At that moment, moonlight, cool and silvery, spilled through the canopy of trees, lighting Howard and Maria as they stood on either side of the glittering stream, their hands clasped over it.

"The pledge is made; the promise sealed over water and under moon," a deep voice intoned. "Let what is bound here stand until the time of Union comes again. So be it."

*** *** ***

Tony scowled, trying to work a section of wire through a series of tiny loops prior to welding it in place. Normally this sort of manual dexterity was a piece of cake for him, but at the moment, his usual skill was lacking.

"You're in my light, Potts," he growled, using the convenient excuse.

"You're coming off of your caffeine high and about ready to crash," she replied calmly. "That does tend to leave you less than on the cutting edge, Mr. Stark."

He shot her an irritated glare and tried to ignore the seven empty mugs sitting around the table. "Caffeine doesn't affect me."

"Just your fine motor skills," Pepper quipped gently. "Tony, please, just go take a twenty minute rest and you'll be back to your usual quicksilver self, all right? That will give me time to clean up the dishes and scrape up the crumbs."

"I'm only doing this because you said 'please,'" came his grumbly sigh. Tony set down the micro-welding tools, switched the power off and ambled away from the table, stretching. The various creaks and pops of tendons and joints sounded loud in the workshop, and he caught the faint smirk Pepper tried to hide when he turned on her. "It's nothing. Just a little stiff."

"You sound like a bowl of cereal. Go lie down," came her soft order. "Please."

"I still have the speed and dexterity of a panther, Potts. Don't forget it—"

"I'm trembling in fear," she assured him. "Twenty minutes, eyes closed."

Tony trudged up the stairs and she watched him go, feeling an empathetic ache in her own shoulders. How long had it been since _she'd_ allowed herself a full stretch? Too long, Pepper chided herself, and mentally scheduled a nice quiet flexing session at home behind closed curtains.

She turned and looked at the worktable, sighing at the sight of sticky plates with half-eaten sandwiches, cold mugs with just enough coffee in them to be spill hazards, crumpled napkins, condiments now crusting over on various surfaces and strewn through it all tools, wires, bits of tape, notes and design schematics.

A typical Tony table, Pepper mused as she began to stack plates. From across the room, she concentrated on running the water over in the sink and let it warm up before focusing on the plug, which bounced into the bottom of the basin and nestled into the drain.

When it was ready, Pepper carried over the plates and cups, adding them to the rising water, and reached for the soap. One good squeeze and she let it froth. On impulse, she made a circle of her index finger and thumb, and dipped it into the water. Lifting it, she blew in the center, creating a perfect soap bubble.

She pointed at it, and the soap bubble rose higher, dancing upwards, bouncing along in the air. Pepper stared at it, and the bubble changed shape, moving from a ball into a triangle, and quivering for a moment before popping audibly.

Upstairs, Tony stretched out on his bed and took a deep breath, grateful that he let Pepper boss him around periodically. It DID feel good to lie down, and he closed his eyes, willing to humor Pepper, who would probably check on him within a few minutes anyway. It wasn't as if he was actually going . . . to . . .

_He saw the place clearly, and the perfect detail and definition startled him. This was the Start; where all his dreams began, ever since he was a toddler old enough to describe his night fancies to his mother._

_The glade. _

_Any night he dreamed, he always began here; sometimes only in the briefest flash, but still, it was the doorway._

_Tony walked through it, still intrigued by the degree of detail in this tiny anchor point in his mind. He could smell the cool leafy scent of the forest, and hear the bubble splash of the water along the brook, soothing and somehow compelling too._

_Details, always rich, always vivid. _

_He took a breath and waited on the far side of the water, knowing that if the dream was going to change this would be when and where it would happen. The process was like waiting for a ride, and Tony relaxed, listening to the gurgle of the water. The stuff here always had sort of a musical quality, and when he was younger, he swore the fish in it watched him._

_The shift came; a flash of color and Tony braced himself for whatever amusing, terrifying and or interesting shit his mind wanted to set up for him tonight. Would it be some insight of creative genius? Would it be some jumble of quest and chase? Would it be a sensual adventure?_

_He hoped for the latter; Tony knew he was overdue for some mental compensation for his self-imposed celibacy of late, and erotica here on the astral plane was always mind-blowingly good. Not that he remembered the faces or names of this dream partners, but ahhh the release, that's what it was all about._

_A familiar setting: his office. Tony looked around feeling slightly disappointed, but in the next moment, the door opened, and a heavyset man stepped in. A sense of panic hit as the man glared at him, letting Tony get a good long look._

_Burly, beefy, large—they all seemed inadequate adjectives to describe the general build of the behemoth who lumbered up to the desk. He seemed more like a living slab of rock; a flesh iceberg in a leather vest and jeans. Tony noted the Fu Manchu mustache and the thick eyebrows; the un-amused scowl and gold hoop earrings on either side of a bald, bullet head._

_The monster managed a cynical smile, and rumbled, "Enough screwing around, Stark—time to make good and join in the bond of matrimony. Start considering what you want in a Life Mate, and get your trewsoo ready, Princeling. Oh, and just so you understand this is serious?"_

_The hulk came closer, leaned over the desk, and lightly slapped Tony's face. Tony and chair skidded sideways behind the desk, crashing into the wall. He crumpled to the carpet and awoke—_

--with a jolt.

He was still on the mattress; given the realistic feel of the blow Tony expected to wake up on the floor having fallen off the bed, but that wasn't the case.

Still, his jaw ached and he moved to rub it gingerly, wincing at the pain. Dream or not, that love tap had *hurt.* He blinked again because Pepper was hovering over him now, blue eyes big with concern. "Tony?"

"You know that slugging your boss in the middle of his naptime is a fire-able offense, right, Potts?" he mumbled, working his jaw back and forth.

She blinked, and tried to smile, but then reached down and turned his head to the right; her fingers lightly touched his left cheek and Pepper's lips tightened in concern. "I have an alibi, Mr. 'Never washed a dish in my life' Stark. Who_ hit_ you?"

"Funny you should ask," Tony grunted, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed and sitting up. "Big bald guy with a handlebar mustache and hands like V8 engines. What the hell is a trewso, by the way?"

"A what?" Pepper asked, but Jarvis broke in softly from overhead.

"A trousseau is traditionally the household goods and linens of a bride's dowry; in contemporary times it refers to a bride's personal wardrobe with an accent on the lingerie."

"Lovely," Tony rolled his eyes. "I'm dreaming of bikers who want to marry me and then beat me up—Jarvis, scan and neutralize any toxic fumes in the workshop area, okay? I'm a scared little princeling now."

Pepper paused as she brought a wet washcloth from the master bathroom and gave him an odd look. "Did you just call yourself a . . . princeling?"

"Eh," Tony shrugged, "That's what my biker boyfriend called me, right before his smack of affection there." He reached across his chest to scratch his shoulder. "Dreams never make any sense. Don't _you_ have weird dreams, Potts?"

Pepper hesitated a fraction of a second too long; Tony shot her an inquisitive look and she cleared her throat. "I have flying dreams."

And she did, although in her case, most were treasured memories.

Tony managed a brief smile. "Flying is the bomb, Pepper. Give me the word and I'll whip you up a Suit; you can make those dreams a reality you know."

"Thank you, but I'm not sure I can justify an armored Suit as part of my working wardrobe," she murmured with a sweet smile. The man was generous, and had she expressed ANY interest, Pepper knew Tony _would_ make it without the least hesitation.

"Who knows; it might improve efficiency!" he enthused. "Think of it—you could accompany me on missions and feed me my daily briefing!"

"There's multi-tasking and then there's suicide, Tony," Pepper replied, lightly dabbing his face with the folded damp cloth. "I'd rather _not_ distract you in life-or-death situations if that's all right with you."

"Are you implying I can't handle it?" he teased back, arching an eyebrow at her. Pepper smirked back.

"I'm suggesting that I'm very happy to stay here and out of the line of fire, sir. And you need to stop dreaming about bruisers with earrings out to bitchslap you. Let me get you some Cock-a-leekie soup and crackers; you need more on your stomach than stale Oreos."

Tony took the wet washcloth from her and watched her go, frowning a little; he didn't remembered mentioning the gold earrings.

*** *** ***

The rest of the week went quietly; one minor mission to Mumbai, mostly mundane; many memos; a myriad of meetings; more mechanics and muddled moments.

Tony found himself staying up later and later to avoid sleeping, justifying it with a need to work on the flight stabilizers, but in truth, he was leery of running into the bouncer again. He knew it was silly, and that if he took a sleeping pill he wouldn't dream, but Tony didn't rest well under the influence of chemicals.

Except alcohol.

However, he'd avoided that resort since he'd gotten back from Afghanistan, and intended to keep to it as much as possible; for one thing it took stress off of Pepper and he owed her that. Too, he never knew when a mission might pop up, and flying the Suit while drunk was a big No-no to his personal code.

His _new _personal code.

When Tony could avoid fatigue no longer, he dropped himself on his sofa and kicked his shoes off, grumbling a little, and hoping the change of locale would help him avoid a repeat encounter.

It didn't work.

"_So. Stark, you have no yet begun to get serious about your upcoming Bonding, and this displeases me," the enormous man scowled. They were standing in the cool, quiet expanse of the Stark Industries parking garage this time. The goliath was dressed much the same, but held an arrow in his hands; a sleek thin missile of gold, with red fletching, and what looked like a stylized heart-shaped point. Tony tried not to stare at it, but in the man's hands it was almost . . . dainty._

"_Look ,um, while I support those who want to follow alternative lifestyles, I'm not really interested in living one—willingly or unwillingly as the case may be, Mr. . . . ?"_

_The bald giant paused and his expression shifted to one of grim amusement. It took awhile since clearly his facial muscles weren't used to lighter or milder expressions. "You're kidding, right? Word is that you've got a sense of humor."_

"_Not this time. To be honest, you are *not* my type, in SO many ways, and I don't think it can work between us. At least not without some very serious protest on my part," Tony announced, feeling a bit of panic now. "I'm very much addicted to women. As in, terminally."_

_The giant laughed. It was not a pretty sight, and Tony winced as around them, car alarms whooped and shrieked at the sound of the monster's barking amusement. He waved the arrow to quiet them again and shook his head, making the gold hoop earrings glitter. "Okay, that's funny, Stark. Just for your information, I'm Bonded already with my own three buttercups, and I'm not looking to add to the harem. And the name's Cupid. Cupid Aizen Myō-ō__ Kamadeva Bes."_

"_Cupid." Tony blinked, staring._

_The leather-vested gorilla before him managed a cynical grin that would have sent lesser men running. "No damned kid in a diaper here, Stark; love and lust are serious business. You need to start setting up that big glass and chrome box of yours for a missus, pal, because your wild oats days are off the calendar. Permanently." _

_As he spoke, Cupid casually gripped the arrow the way another person would have held a dart. He flicked it hard, and the arrow whizzed past Tony's left ear, singing a sweet musical note as it did so. Tony turned to watch its flight, and nearly yelled when it flashed across the length of the parking garage and struck a young executive waiting for the elevator._

_The instant the arrow smacked his left buttock cheek with a meaty squelch, the young man gave a groan and fumbled, pulling out his cell phone. A quick jab of numbers, and Tony heard him stammer into it as he stepped in the elevator. "Hello, Sylvia? I LOVE you!!"_

_The arrow dissolved instantly._

"_Never gets old," Cupid rumbled with satisfaction, blowing on his thick fingertips with pride. "So like I was saying, start making some room in that guest house you call a closet. Got it?"_

_Tony crossed his arms defiantly across his chest and cocked his head. "You're NOT shooting me in the ass."_

"_Be a good little Princeling and I won't *have* to go all Saint Sebastian on your tuchas, Stark. You've got three days." Cupid growled. "Otherwise you can say goodbye to La dolce vita."_

"_I don't *want* to get married; I'm not in love, I'm perfectly happy doing what I'm doing right now!" Tony protested._

_Cupid cupped one beefyy hand in the other and cracked his knuckles. They sounded like gunshots in the echo-filled parking garage. "What *you* want doesn't enter into it, Stark. This pledge was arranged before you were lusty gleam in your old man's eye, and since it's riding on his word, it's done deal. Oh, and get yourself some Yew oil for your shoulders. Fortingall's is the best. Ta-ta, Princeling."_

_Tony didn't get a chance to dodge the blow; Cupid's heavy fist shot out and caught him in the belly, driving all the breath out of him with its force. Tony felt himself crumple around the man's hand---_

"Shit!" he wheezed, clutching his gut and staring up at the cement ceiling of the garage. With a groan he rolled to his side and blearily blinked as the soft tappity-tap of Pepper's heels grew louder on the cement. Her divine legs came into his view, and even gasping as he was, Tony allotted himself a long moment to visual appreciation of his assistant's incredible gams.

"Tony! What is it? Stomachache? I _knew_ I should have thrown that pizza out," Pepper demurely bent down to check on him, adding the lovely aspect of a tight short skirt to his view.

Not all of Tony's wheezing was fist-related now, although he struggled manfully to sit up. "It's . . . nothhhhing."

"Sure it is," Pepper soothed. "You always fold up like a rickety lawn chair when things are going great."

Tony wanted to make a scathing reply, but couldn't quite manage to move and speak at the same time yet. He settled for giving Pepper a glare as he got unsteadily to his feet.

She put one hand on Tony's stomach and the other on his back, rubbing both soothingly. "If you need to throw up—"

"I don't . . . need to . . . puke," he managed with strained dignity.

"Okay then," she murmured softly and added, "Another dream?"

Reluctantly Tony nodded, and attempted a smile that was more of a grimace. "Ohyeah. Baldie . . . has a name."

"The Hulk?"

"Cu . . . Cuuuupid."

Tony expected Pepper to burst into giggles; the dichotomy of the name with the image should have nudged her funny bone. Instead, she pursed her lips and looked thoughtful. He reached around and scratched his shoulder blade irritably. "Potts? No laughs?"

"Hee, hee," she dutifully responded, her eyes looking slightly wary. "Just a dream, Tony, although I'm worried about you cramping up like this. Maybe you need more potassium in your diet."

"He called himself Cupid Aizen Myō-ō Kamadeva Bes, which is pretty damned detailed for a dream, Pepper. Jarvis?"

"Sir?"

"Research the following names: Cupid, Aizen Myō-ō, Kamadeva and Bes. Summarize the results according to pertinence."

"Pertinence to what parameters. Sir?"

Tony was at a loss for a moment, and blinked. "To—I'm not sure. Stark Industries and or myself, I guess. Oh, and find out what you can on something called Fortingall's."

"Fortingall's?" Pepper echoed, pulling her hands away from him.

He didn't like that. Tony locked gazes with her. "You've heard of it?"

"It's . . . an ointment. A sort of . . . herbal treatment, from Scotland," she admitted with reluctance. "For . . . itching."

"Get me some," came the terse order. "And find out what's going on three days from now, because I'm under a deadline. Smacking and punching are bad enough; I don't want to find out what's in store for me when I keep my bachelorhood."

"What? Tony—" Pepper protested. "He wants to marry you?"

"Not him; we got that settled," Tony assured her, moving off towards his worktable and dropping into the ergonomic chair there. "Jarvis, what have you got?"

"Cupid is the deity of love, son of Venus and Ares; his function is to provoke romance between other beings, usually through the crude mechanics of arrows or darts. Aizen Myō-ō is the Buddhist deity who transforms lust into spiritual awakening and is personified by a red-faced man with six arms who carries a bell, stick, lotus, thunderbolt, bow and arrow. Kamadeva is the Hindu deity of love who wields a bow of sugarcane and fires arrows with flowers on them. Bes is an Egyptian deity associated with sensual pleasure, fertility and childbirth. I have yet to find a connection between these four mythical figures and yourself, other than the facts that they are all male and also have a serious preoccupation with sexual intercourse."

"It's not a . . . preoccupation on my part," Tony argued. "It's more of an enthusiastic hobby."

"--Addiction," Pepper and Jarvis chimed together. Tony's expression soured, but he ignored them and tapped the keyboard, bringing up the holographic calendar.

"Three days, three days—that's the twenty-first . . ." his voice trailed off and Pepper heard something in it that brought her around the worktable to his side. He didn't look up at her, but added in a soft tone, "My birthday. I'll be hitting the smallest square triangular number this year."

"And the date of your party—" Pepper realized, nodding. "This year it's scheduled out at the Arboretum. Should I cancel it?"

Tony debated the matter, scratching his back again in annoyance. "For now, no. Until I have a good reason, I'm not going to be intimidated by a . . . nightmare. We're dealing with the real world here, Potts, not some weird fantasy brought on by bad nachos and too much Red Bull."

Pepper hesitated, looking at Tony for a moment, and nodded.


	2. Chapter 2

Fortingall's Yew Oil came in a small green glass bottle with a cork stopper. The vellum label appeared to be hand-written in a script that looked like runes, and Pepper knew that when she pulled the cork out the scent of pine and ash would rise up intoxicatingly, and linger in the air for a while, bringing with it pleasant memories and a general air of sweetness.

This was from her *personal* supply; even a rush order to Scotland wouldn't get it to California in fewer than three days, and Pepper was glad she had some on hand. Tony was in misery, and the sight of him constantly rubbing up against the doorframes of the mansion had her feeling itchy in sympathy.

She wondered how far along his metamorphosis was, and why she wasn't more surprised at it. Thinking back over the years, Pepper realized how many of the little signs had been there all along without her being aware of them individually. She wondered too, if her own attraction to Tony Stark was simply due to Charm rather than affection born of familiarity and respect.

"Pepper, dying here—" his voice interrupted her musings. Pepper sighed and yanked open the cork with a 'pop.' Down on the massage table, Tony lay prone and shirtless, his arms folded and his chin resting on his crossed wrists.

She looked down, and noted the long irritated edges of skin along the edges of Tony's shoulder blades. The inflammation had a dark center to it, like a thick line of ink or a tattoo. Each line ran along the scapula and down Tony's back, bracketing his spine nearly to the waist.

He was budding, Pepper realized, and winced in empathy.

Carefully she poured some of the Yew Oil into one palm and set the bottle down, then moved to spread the oil on both hands. Leaning over, Pepper lightly began to massage the Fortingall's along the dark lines.

"Ohhhhhyeahhhhhhh . . ." came the immediate, grateful rumble. "Oh Potts, you have *no* idea how good that feels!"

Pepper did, in fact, have an idea, but she said nothing and continued to stroke her hands over the inflamed areas. The oil sank in, making a slight hissing sound that faded with each pass of her palm. Under her fingertips, Tony's skin felt hot, and it thinned along his shoulder blades in response to her touch.

"Tony," she began quietly, fairly confident of his reply, "Are you *sure* you don't want to see a doctor?"

"Positive. Whatever it is can wait until after my birthday," he mumbled, his voice much more relaxed now that the oil had stopped the infernal itching. "Why? Does it look bad?"

Pepper glanced down, and let her fingers caress the dark, rising ridges lightly; this made Tony moan again, but with more pleasure than relief. "Ohnnnnggghhhhh . . . whoa. I don't know what you're doing, Potts, but that feels *obscenely* nice!"

"It . . . looks like it might um, break through the skin," she tried to warn him. Under her fingers, the ridges moved, pushing upward, and Pepper suspected Tony would be fully avianated in about two to four hours.

Whether or not he was ready for it was another matter.

"Mr. Stark—Tony," Pepper murmured gently. "Was there anything . . . unusual about your parents?"

"You mean other than the fact that they gave birth to the world's most perfect son? Oh keep rubbing, pleeeeease, Miss Potts, you have the hands of a bonafide *goddess!*"

"I *meant* anything that might . . . relate to your dreams, or your back," Pepper grinned at his pleasure. "Anything that might have sounded silly back when you were younger that could shed some light on things now."

"Hmmmm," Tony murmured. It was hard to think with Pepper's hands sliding over his back; he'd never *known* she had the touch of a masseuse and when Pepper hit those *places* along his shoulder blades, certain other parts of his body reacted.

Strongly.

"Well let's see . . . my mother used to call me her 'principino' sometimes, and she always asked about my dreams . . ."

He felt Pepper's hands stop moving. "Your mother asked about your dreams?"

"Well sure," Tony murmured. "Moms are like that. She liked hearing the details all the way up until I hit age twelve, and then I wouldn't tell her about, um, some of them."

"I'm sure," Pepper chided, but gently. "So you dreamed a lot?"

"Still do," Tony told her in a cheerful tone. "Ohh, could you rub a little more oil in my left shoulder, pretty please, pretty Potts?"

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," she replied, noting the ridges beginning to pulse a bit now. There wouldn't be much blood for the initial emergence, she knew; just some lymph and avian fluid, but having a towel or two would be handy, and given Tony's ignorance, a big dose of valium would probably help too.

Pepper bit her lips, well aware that she couldn't simply ask: _"Mr. Stark, how would you feel if you sprouted wings?_ and be taken seriously. On the other hand, letting it happen without any warning would be cruel as well, so she rubbed her fingers along the ridges firmly.

Tony shuddered. "Okay, keep doing touching me *that* way and I'm going to have to marry you, Pepper, because that's a 'mommy and daddy love each other very MUCH' sort of sen-sation!"

She moved to the front of the table and leaned over Tony, running her thumbs along the dark ridges. Under her, Tony growled; his hands had shifted from under his chin and were now gripping the edges of the massage table, the corded muscle standing out on them. "P-P-P-Pepper!"

She ignored him and concentrated. Stroking would stimulate the nerve endings, speed up the process and put Tony out of his itchy misery. On the other hand, it would also irrevocably change his life, and in certain consequence, her own as well.

"Shhhhh. Push, Tony," Pepper murmured, stroking again, her thumbs running from each scapula to his waist. Leaning over brought her chestdown against the back of his head, but she tried not to think about that, and kept going. "It might sting a bit--"

"Wha-a-a-a---!" was all Tony managed before a soft, wet ripping sound filled the air, and his back erupted. Black lace panels swiftly sprouted from his shoulder blades, lengthening as they rose. "The *HELL!*"

"Dummy, get me the dishtowels from the sink; hurry! Tony, relax, you're going to be fine. Just . . . stay still, okay?"

"Damn it, Potts, what's happening?" Tony tried to look over his shoulder, but Pepper's chest made it difficult. He twisted his head the other way, but Pepper laid a cool Yew Oil coated hand on his cheek and pinned him down.

"Stay. Put." Pepper growled, and for once, Tony chose to listen. He took in deep breaths, feeling the itch along his back replaced by a slight burning sensation, and a lightness that hadn't been there before.

"Pepper---"

"Hold on. Thank you," she murmured to Dummy, who rolled up with the towel in his claw.

Tony felt the towel dab at his back and made a face. "Did something . . . rupture? My back feels wet. This is gross."

Pepper dabbed the dishtowel around the bases of the newly-sprouted wings, wiping away fluid as quickly as she could, and admiring the long, strong lines of them. Mostly dragonfly, she noted, with some traces of moth along the lower set. They were an impressive pair; Tony was going be the envy of most males, Pepper conceded as she worked quickly to dry his back.

"It's not gross," she murmured soothingly. "You need to, um, flex a little though. Can you do that for me? Wiggle your shoulders a bit?"

"Wiggle my shoulders? Sure, why not? Want me to bark like a dog, too?" came the sardonic mutter. "Pepper, what the hell is going ON?"

"Tony . . ." She began, pulling back and twisting the towel in her hands. "You have . . . well . . . wings."

His sharp gaze up at her held damned little humor. "Is that a joke Potts? Because as punch lines go, you could do a lot better. Seriously, what's going on? Did something gross burst back there? Get me a mirror."

Pepper started to argue, sighed, and headed for the little bathroom off the workstation, returning with the mirror that hung over the sink there. She handed it to Tony, who was sitting up on the massage table. He took it, and held it out to get a better view of himself, frowning. The moment he caught sight of the wings, his mouth tightened, his eyes went wide, and Pepper fought the rising giggles in her own gorge.

"WhattheHEllarethoseandhowdidtheygetonmyshoulders---Potts!" Tony roared. He twisted, trying to peer around at the wings, sliding off the table in his attempt, and Pepper stepped forward.

The sweep of a wing nearly grazed her and she ducked. "Tony! Stop! Calm down!"

"I'm calm!" he argued, turning again. "I'm fine! I just have . . . Shit! Miss Potts, I have fucking WINGS!"

She rose and stepped back, out of the swing, her hands in a placating, palms up gesture. "It's going to be okay, Tony!"

"The HELL it is!" he snapped back. "Jesus Christ! I'm a fucking FAIRY!"

She bit her lips hard, but the giggles puffed out of the corners of her mouth. Fighting to keep a serious expression, she wove around Tony's second spin and caught his arm. "Stop! They need to dry before anything else, and *you* need to calm down, Mr. Stark!"

"Oh they need to dry, yes, of course—Potts how the hell do *you* know so much about this? Was it that damned lotion?" he growled, shifting his gaze around the room, his mouth an angry bracket. She reached for the Fortingall's but he was quicker, and snatched up the bottle first. "Okay, *this* stuff—"

Tony sniffed the bottle, and blinked a little; Pepper moved closer and held a hand under it as his grip loosened. Expertly she caught the Fortingall's when it slipped out of his hand. "It's strong, Tony. You might want to sit down."

"Just call me Tonybell," he murmured dizzily, and leaned back against the massage table and shot a sorrowing look over one shoulder. "Fucking *wings* for crap's sake!"

Pepper took a deep breath and stepped closer, in front of him. Carefully she set down the bottle and took Tony's hands in her own. "Tony, yes. You have wings. If you flex your shoulders, you can move them a bit, and in a while, you'll be able to . . . use them. Maybe," she added, shooting them a quick, appraising glance. "It depends on how much Fey blood you have."

"Fey blood?" he echoed, and drew his brows together. His grip tightened in hers; not enough to be uncomfortable, but strong enough to hang on. "Is this why you were asking about my mother?"

Pepper nodded. "Yes. If your mother was high-blooded, then that makes you at least half, which is pretty powerful. There aren't many full or half-Fey around."

"And what makes *you* the expert on this . . . bizarre aspect of unreality, Potts?" he cocked his head, and behind him, his wings vibrated ever so slightly. Dummy backed up a bit at the hum, and Pepper's eyes widened.

"Because . . . . Because I'm a quarter Fey myself, Mr. Stark," Pepper confessed quietly. "I had a fairy grandmother."

She wasn't quite prepared for him to laugh at her, and the fact that the sound had an edge of hysteria was definitely not good. Pepper stared at him patiently until Tony's amusement died into snickers, and although he was trying to settle down, she could feel the effort it took through his grip. "All done, Tony?"

"Please, go on—" he snuffled, "This is fascinating, for a hallucination."

Impatiently, Pepper let go of one hand, stepped forward and stroked the topmost ridge of one wing; he fought a shudder and shook his head. "A really *good* hallucination, mind you--"

"Shall I try breaking one off?" Pepper muttered. "Because I can tell you right now it will *hurt,* Tony. A lot."

Uncertainly, Tony glanced over one shoulder, staring hard at the length of wing, his jaw moving back and forth. "Okay Pepper, okay. Talk to me, but while you do-- I need a drink."

She nodded; it would settle her boss to some degree, as long as he didn't overdo it. "Sure. Let's go upstairs. Jarvis, please tint the house windows and make a scotch at the bar. Tony—" Pepper indicated he should go ahead of her. They had an awkward moment at the glass security door until he figured out to go sideways through it, and even then, the stairs up to the house weren't any easier, not with a six and a half foot wing spread.

Tony grumbled. When they reached the living room, he glared at his reflection in the darkened glass, arms crossed over his chest. "I look like an idiot. Mosquito wings."

"They're dragonfly; you're from the line of Water Born Fey," Pepper murmured, moving to the bar to fetch the scotch. "In terms of lineage, that's the oldest line. Water Born are among the toughest and strongest."

He perked up for a moment, then stepped closer to the glass, studying the wings more closely, his engineering interest getting the better of him. Tony cocked his head. "The design has some strength to it, although I've got doubts about these things effectively lifting me off the ground, and what's with the coloration? Black, with iridescent touches of peacock blue and teal green? What sort of camo is that?"

Pepper brought Tony the scotch; he took it from her with a nod of thanks and she sighed. "It's not meant to camouflage, Tony. Wings are a status symbol; a definitive display of your lineage and powers. The color of *your* wings indicates that you've got no need to back down from anyone, not that you ever *have.*"

"True," Tony preened for a moment. He took a breath and concentrated; a second later, the wings vibrated ever so slightly, the sound a faint, musical hum. Pepper's hair fluttered in the back breeze and she stepped away, her expression tolerantly amused.

"Having fun?"

"No, but it's interesting," Tony admitted, taking a deep swallow of the scotch. "So, your granny was a fairy?"

"Yep. Granny Octavia was Field Born Fey, from County Cork, to be precise. Left to avoid an arranged marriage and immigrated here in the US. The blood stayed recessive through my dad, but when *I* was born, it popped up again," Pepper sighed. "Most likely because I'm the spitting image of Granny."

Tony eyed her and held out the glass; Pepper took it and went back to the bar, well aware of his gaze on her the entire time. "You don't have wings."

She filled the glass, hesitated, and then poured a second one for herself. Tony's eyes widened, but he said nothing. Pepper brought the two glasses, handed him one, and managed a sweet smile.

"Actually . . . " Pepper told him, "I do, Mr. Stark," and swallowed her drink in a few quick gulps.

Tony matched her, draining his glass and licking the rim for a moment. "Prove it. Because I've *seen* you in a backless dress, Potts. Ohhh how I've seen you, and to my way of touch and sight, there's nothing along *your* pretty shoulder blades but soft, soft skin."

"Can't just take my word for it?" she asked, knowing full well the answer. Tony's sharp, cynical stare was reply enough, and Pepper sighed. She set her empty glass down on the coffee table and turned to Tony. "Unzip me, please."

"I *like* this part," Tony murmured, reaching for the little tab on her sleeveless dress. He tugged it down, the little growl of the zipper a seductive sound, and Pepper pulled away before Tony could take it down past the curve of her ass.

"Ah--!" she warned, and stepped away. "That's far enough, Mr. Stark. Okay, give me a moment . . ." Pepper closed her eyes and concentrated, her breathing deep for a few long breaths.

As Tony watched, the edges of Pepper's thin shoulder blades darkened to a soft shade of brown. With a quick, slightly slurpy sound, they erupted, and a pair of wings slid up and out, rising sleekly to frame Pepper's elegant spine.

He sucked in a surprised breath; it was one thing to be told, and quite another thing to actually *see* the process. Tony stepped closer, staring openly now at Pepper's metamorphosis. "Holy crap. You've got wings!"

"I told you I did," Pepper murmured over one shoulder

To Tony's way of thinking, they were gorgeous, and very much suited to Pepper. The pale orange-brown wings had cream outlines, and small dark brown dots speckled over them. The bottom lobes were rounded like a Luna moth's, and at the shoulder point of each wing, thick tufts of down in soft cream around them made it look as if she had a feather boa edging.

She turned around, and slowly opened and closed them; the gesture was distinctly feminine and Tony gave a playful little growl in response. "Yeow! Those are . . . sexy."

"Riiight," Pepper smirked and shook her head. "Listen to yourself—two hours ago you had no idea such things existed, and now you're making a pass because of them."

"Call me a quick study," Tony countered, reaching over her shoulder to stroke the fluff there.

Pepper gave a gasp and twisted away from him. "No touching, Mr. Stark."

"Why? You touched *mine,*" he protested childishly. "And yours are simply begging to be . . . fondled."

"That's enough," Pepper murmured. She drew in a breath, and as she did so, her wings smoothly slipped back into her shoulders. With careful contortionism, Pepper reached back behind her and began to zip her dress up again. "We're getting off the point, which is that yes, I have Fey blood and more people than you'd imagine do, to a certain percentage."

"I want to know how you did that retracto thing," Tony demanded, waving his glass at her. "Got them back into your shoulders like that."

"Practice. You can do the same when you concentrate, and I think that should be the first thing we work on," Pepper murmured, struggling a little with the very last few inches of zipper. Tony stepped behind her, very close, and tugged the tab up. He stayed there a second longer than necessary, his breath warm against the nape of her neck.

"How could you go out backless in public, knowing you had those soft, fluffy . . . wings, Miss Potts?" he breathed in her ear. "That was . . . risky, wasn't it?"

Pepper gracefully shifted away from him, not meeting his eyes, aware of a slight flush up her cheekbones. "I've had a lot more practice in control," she chided him, "and at the time, I didn't think you were going to be there, remember?"

"I remember," Tony replied, his own grin widening. "You got flustered. Hey! Would they have--?" Her deepening blush was answer enough, and his eyes widened with mirth. "Seriously? You would have sprouted?"

"No," she muttered. "I'd never let *that* happen, although . . ."

Tony narrowed his gaze, and his own wings gave a quick flick. "No *wonder* you were so rattled. You and me in the moonlight; a serious momentary disruption of our status quo . . ."

"Charm." Pepper snapped defensively. "You've got Charm, Tony, and even if you didn't have a conscious recognition of the attribute, you've always known how to use it, and yes, moonlight can amplify the effects."

"Clearly," he smiled. "Nice to know it's not all ego on my part."

"It goes both ways," she informed him. "You're susceptible to it too, as I've noted."

"Oh really?" Tony drawled, crossing his arms and giving Pepper a playfully skeptical look. "Is that a fact?"

"Yes. For example; if I ask you to do something . . . and I dimple when I ask, you generally do it, Mr. Stark. Not that I overuse the trick, but—"

"Maybe I do things you ask because I *like* you, or because they go along with my own plans. Ever consider *that,* Miss Potts?" Tony countered.

Pepper tilted her head down and looked up at him through her lashes, the little dimple on her cheek evident. The effect was devastatingly adorable, and Tony pursed his mouth fighting the pull, finally conceding with a frustrated growl.

"So *that's* how you get me to eat broccoli."

"As well as catch your flights, brush your teeth and occasionally put your pants back on, yes," Pepper laughed. "Charm has its uses beyond snaring others for, um, romantic encounters."

"Sex. So I owe it *all* to Charm?" Tony looked annoyed and headed back to the bar, intent on topping off his glass as Pepper looked on, sighing.

"No, Mr. Stark. You're a sensual, compelling and brilliant man in your own right. Charm is just sort of the icing on the cake, in your case."

He picked up the bottle, hesitated and set it down again. "Okay then." Turning, Tony shot her a serious look, eyes dark and compelling. "So where do we start?"

Pepper's return glance was slightly troubled. "I can fill you in on the basics, Tony, but as for Cupid and the three day deadline; we'll need to do some work."


	3. Chapter 3

It took him an hour or so to learn the reflex for retraction and expression of his wings; Tony's lack of patience was tempered by his recognition of how important the skill was, and Pepper tried to be patient. She'd had a remarkable mentor in Granny, and years of practice; Tony had only days to absorb a lot.

They started with F-Net, and Pepper signed him up, then steered him through the "Who We Are" and FAQ sections, expanding on the information there as he asked question after question about the entire sub-culture.

"You're telling me that these . . . biologically mutations have always existed? That there's been a Fairy conspiracy, a cover-up for *centuries* Potts?"

"Not exactly. Fairies have always been part of legend, Tony. There just haven't been enough of them to make a things an issue, and anytime the mainstream tries to bring us into the limelight, the folks doing so are seen as crackpots and dismissed, just like UFO conspirators, or ghost hunters," Pepper replied patiently. "Most people with Fey blood keep that information quiet simply because it's prudent and better in the long run to do so."

"Okay, I can see that," Tony agreed, "But what about this whole . . . underground society? Who's in charge?"

Pepper blinked. "Nobody. Tony, it's not like the old days. If you're wondering if there's a Seelie court or anything like that, forget it. At most we have a West Coast coordination office with a Manager who keeps the database and maintains links with other Fey coordination offices across the world, mostly for genealogy purposes."

His frustration flared, and Tony threw himself onto the sofa, grumbling. "That's *stupid!* What about all the characteristics here—the wings, the Charm, the Healing, the Glamour?"

"Those are . . . finite characteristics, genetically passed and integrated with human biology, Mr. Stark. If those with Fey blood breed, then yes, the Fey aspects become stronger, and there are a few people out there as close to pure as breeding alone permits, but they don't survive long," Pepper told him. "Not in this century anyway. In the old days Fey kidnapped human babies to bring human blood into the fey line and help make it stronger. Nowadays there are some who are trying to do the opposite, and that's where Cupid comes in, I think."

"Is he . . . Fey?" Tony demanded.

Pepper shrugged. "Most people believe he's from one of the oldest and earliest lines known, back when Fey had real power. He and a handful of others are . . . big wings."

"Don't you mean big wigs?" Tony countered, and then thought better of it when Pepper grinned. "Okay, I get the pun—"

"They're movers and shakers, sure, but not organized into any sort of political structure, Tony. From what I heard, Cupid is high up. *His* Charm is off the scale; that's why he can get people to fall in love, supposedly."

"No supposedly about it," Tony sighed, remembering the young executive. "How many of these big wings *are* there?"

Pepper sighed. It was nearly midnight, and her stomach was growling; she rose up and stretched a bit, then pulled out her Blackberry and idly began to dial up El Rosale. "A few. Look, I'm getting some taquitos. What would YOU like?"

"Burrito Grande, with extra hot sauce. Oh, and chips. Fresh chips, mmmmmm. I repeat, how many?"

"At least four, with Cupid being one of them," Pepper sighed, pointing to the laptop screen. "Here, you can read about them yourself—I'm going to get some plates and wait for dinner."

*** *** ***

Pepper cleared Tony's schedule for the next day, moving and shifting meetings like Tetris blocks, soothing over irate tempers and worried associates. Listening to her, Tony realized with shock how much Pepper utilized her Charm to keep his life running smoothly.

He caught a few hours of sleep, and thankfully this time his dreams did *not* feature Cupid. Instead, Tony found himself in the glade, eyeing it with a new curiosity. The glade had been part of his internal landscape for so long that he'd never thought before about whether or not it might be real, or represent a place in the conscious world. Now, Tony looked around at the water, the trees, and the forest floor with interest.

"_Looks like the set of Midsummer Night's Dream—" he called aloud, wondering if anyone else was there._

_A soft giggle greeted this observation, and from behind a tree, a woman had stepped out. "If you play Oberon, I could be Tatiana," she murmured sweetly._

_Startled, Tony turned to look at her; she wore a dress so short it was really more of a shirt with ambitions, and on her face was the sort of smile that usually meant an adult rating for the rest of the dream. Dark hair and eyes, and sprouting from her shoulders, a pair of butterfly wings. _

"_And you are . . . ?" Tony politely asked, neither moving closer nor stepping back. The woman flicked her wings seductively and strutted towards him, hips swaying._

"_Oh I'm a contender, Anthony darling," she cooed. "I could make you SO happy . . ." she slithered closer, reaching out to him, and Tony twisted, like a matador, his sense of self-preservation as strong here as in consciousness._

"_Yes, I'm sure you could, and at any other time I'd be more than happy to let you make the effort, but tonight? I'm sort of busy."_

_The woman turned, annoyed, but quick to mask it. "Oh really? Waiting for a bus?"_

"_More like an explanation," Tony replied, and lightly caught the woman by her wrists. "So, Ms. Contender, do you have another name?"_

"_Elise. Elise Marcov. Field Born, around two thirds, which makes me the top runner so far," she replied, smirking down at his grip. "Oooh, you like it rough?"_

_Tony let go of her, his expression cool. "Not really relevant at the moment, Ms. Marcov. And what are you doing here anyway? I don't recall meeting you, or inviting you . . . ."_

"_Not necessary since Cupid's here to enforce the Union," she murmured. "Now that you're in the know about your Fey status."_

"_Huh," was all Tony managed in response. It was disconcerting to think that just *anyone* could stop by in his dreams now, and he glanced around the glade, not sure what, or who to expect. _

_Ms Marcov laughed, softly. "You are *so* new to this, aren't you? Well I'd be happy to initiate you into Fey culture, Anthony. All the delicious . . . benefits to Bonding."_

_Tony blinked, his gaze flicking back to the woman with new intensity. "Say again?"_

_She pretended to rub her wrist as she licked her lips, and Tony was distracted by the way her cleavage shifted with each slow flutter of her wings. "Oh you know all about the process on the Human level, sure. Tony Stark is legendary in *that* capacity, but trust me, you haven't experienced *true* pleasure until you've Courted to Bond, honey. Sex with no restrictions; no limits; no regrets. I could *show* you things . . . ."_

"_I . . . don't think I really want to see your things. Not right now," Tony amended tactfully. "Bonding ? Union? Anything more on those?"_

_Ms Marcov laughed. "Oh you are *such* an innocent! Anthony Stark, you were promised in Union before you were born, honey. Given the line you come from, that's standard practice—Water Born have traditionally been a little . . . exclusive, you know. And Cupid's just there to make sure you keep the promise your mommy and daddy made, princeling."_

"_Okay, I'm getting tired of that label," Tony murmured. "I'm not a princeling."_

"_Yes you arrrre," Ms Marcov sang out. She turned and dropped Tony a slow fluttering wink. "I think I'll go slip into Antonio Banderas's dreams now, but I'll see *you* again in a day or two, when it's time to Bond, stud--!"_

_Her wings picked up speed, and with a graceful little skim she rose in a diagonal line, and faded out of sight before reaching the first of the trees in the glade. Tony watched, mostly interested in the process, and barely even bothering to peek under her skirt as she left._

_He pursed his mouth, and looked around. "Walk in, walk out—let's see . . ."_

_There was only *one* person he knew who was both Fey and asleep at the moment, and Tony strolled forward, curious._

_Beyond the trees he passed into a wheat field, warm in the breeze of night, and in the distance came a soft laugh. Tony saw two figures moving, and even from where he stood, he recognized the sensual tawny wings of the smaller one. _

_His own flared out, crisp and bright in response; the sensation made him flush a bit, and Tony strode forward determinedly feeling an odd sense of air resistance around his torso._

_Pepper laughed again, one arm on her partner's shoulder, the other at his waist. "I know I'm stepping on your feet, but I'm not good at this--"_

"_You're doing fine, darling," came the answering murmur in a voice familiar to Tony; he arched an eyebrow to see a tuxedo clad Cary Grant dancing with Pepper._

_A Cary Grant with elegant wasp wings, sleek , dark and shiny. The actor looked up and dimpled his famous smile at Tony. "Stark, old man, good to see you, even if you're late to the party. Just helping Virginia with her foxtrot. Quite the dancer, our Virginia is. Look who's here, darling."_

"_Tony." Pepper observed, less than thrilled, clearly. She gave a sigh and let go of Cary, who blew her a kiss._

"_Ta-ta, Sweetness. You know where to find me. Stark—behave yourself. Hard to do old man, I know, but it generally pays off."_

_Cary vanished. Pepper pursed her lips and glared at Tony, who wasn't sure whether to laugh or be annoyed._

"_Cary Grant?" he finally asked. "The man died decades ago. A fairy?"_

"_Fey," Pepper corrected in irritation. "I thought I'd have at least one more night before you figured out how to dreamvisit. Tony, what do you want?"_

_He smirked and held out his arms. "Let's dance, Potts. I'm no Cary Grant, but this I can do."_

_She looked distrustful, but finally stepped forward stiffly, letting Tony led her into the first gentle steps of a dance. She relaxed by inches, and Tony turned his head, his breath warm and soft in her ear. "So, you're dreaming about me. Do that much?"_

"_No," she replied firmly. "I get enough of you in my waking hours. And how did you figure out how to do this?"_

"_Had a visitor. Someone besides Cupid—and I know I've dreamed of *you* before, Potts. Is that really you stopping by, or some phantasm I've conjured up on my own?" he murmured, genuinely curious now. _

_Pepper shot him a dry look, but there was a pink flush along her cheeks. "I'm not interested in whatever versions of me you've created, Tony. Who stopped by?"_

_As she spoke, Pepper absently let her fingers stray from his shoulder to the edge of one wing, her touch ghosting along it. The effect on Tony was instantaneous; he sucked in a deep breath, eyes wide as he manfully tried to act normal._

"_Ohhh, just some woman who said she was a contender, whatever that means, could you, um, do that again, because seriously—total bliss there."_

_Pepper gave a little 'ooh' and pulled back, looking uncomfortable. "Sorry, sorry—contender. Oh damn. Tony, we really need to find out exactly what your parents agreed to, because it sounds like you really aren't going to have much of a choice if this Bond has been witnessed and documented. I'm going to wake up now and see if I can't get Jarvis to do some digging about your parents if that's all right with you."_

_Tony gave a nod, and in an impulsive move, slid his hand up from her waist to brush the outside of her wing. The feel of it was like warm, heavy silk, and gratifyingly, Pepper shuddered in a way that could only be described as primly sensual._

_It was a great look for her, and Tony smirked. Pepper bit her lip and glared at him. "Stop."_

"_Why? You *started* it," Tony pointed out reasonably, "and believe me, I'm all for whatever feels good. Especially when it feels *this* good."_

"_It's not appropriate," Pepper shot back. "You're about to be Bonded to someone else."_

"_Not by choice," he reminded her. "And anyway, this is just a dream. We're allowed to do wild and crazy things here."_

_Pepper arched an eyebrow at him and let go of his hands. "Oh really? I hadn't noticed---" So saying, she began to flutter her wings, and by the power of them, rose up in a graceful spiral, her hair blowing around her smirk. "—fancy that. Goodnight, Mr. Stark."_

_She popped out of existence before Tony could do more than gawk, and he filed the view of her legs under 'delicious' in his memory bank before casting a quick glance at his own shoulders._

"_Aerodynamically, this shouldn't work at all," he grumbled."Too little lift and thrust; too much mass."_

_Apparently his wings didn't understand that; with a little effort he managed to get them moving at a speed that left them a blur as musical humming filled the air._

_And then *Tony* filled the air, lurching upward, his amazement coming out in a whoop of joy as he hovered, arms outstretched. "Oh sweeeeeeeet! Suitless, even!"_

_The swoop and dip enthralled Tony, and he had just decided to fly back to his own dream when--_

"Damn it," he sighed as he jolted awake, and rolled off the bed.

*** *** ***

The West Coast Coordination Office was reasonably helpful, and with Jarvis's unique ability to ferret out information from unlikely and occasionally locked sources, Tony and Pepper found themselves looking at a scanned copy of a Pledge of Intention from nearly forty years earlier. The language was flowery and overly legal, but the purpose was clear, and the signatures familiar to Tony.

He leaned over Pepper's shoulder, loving the proximity even as he tried to keep his focus on the document onscreen. "Holy crap! My parents made a deal that I'd be Bonded by my birthday this year in exchange for twenty million in lost gold?"

"That was only the Fey side of the bargain. Your parents promised you'd be Bonded to someone Fey to promote the Blood," Pepper pointed out quietly. "And since this was all arranged before you were born, maybe your parents thought they could get out of it, or that they weren't going to *have* children, Tony."

He gave a slow nod. "Yeah. They didn't talk about things much, but I know my mom had a few . . . miscarriages. Still—I always thought the money was inherited. You know; family money."

"The Stark fortune has always been considered more legend than fact," Jarvis interrupted quietly. "For decades the Starks were genteelly frugal, but from the accounts I have searched, it appears that the fortune re-surfaced in regular increments, salted into various banks over the course of five years, beginning the *day* after this agreement, sir."

Tony gave a grunt of acknowledgement, and lightly rested his chin on Pepper's shoulder as he continued to stare at the screen. "So . . . which one of them was Fey?"

"Don't you know?" Pepper asked, not daring to turn her head. If she did, she'd be nose to nose with Tony and that was much too dangerous.

"I never saw either of them with wings," Tony sighed. "And clearly they didn't clue me in by *talking* to me, so—"

"Jarvis?" Pepper looked upward. The voice came from the embedded speakers, but old habits died hard, and Tony did it too, occasionally.

"Most of the world Fey family records have yet to be transcribed to computer, and the Stark and Dellarosa ones are among those. I can keep searching alternative records, although the deadline is now at twelve hours and counting, sir."

"Yeah, I've got an eye on the clock," Tony sighed. "Shame I'm not even getting a bachelor party."

"Yes, that *would* be your mindset," Pepper sighed. "I have the feeling that we should cancel your party at the Arboretum, Mr. Stark—I doubt you're going to make it."

"Yeah, I have a few things on my mind. Okay—so, my parents opted to sell my future off for immediate monetary gratification. Yeah, I don't feel betrayed at all," Tony grumbled bitterly.

Pepper turned her head slightly, her cheek brushing his before she pulled back. "Maybe they didn't have a choice," she pointed out. "Maybe the Fey one of them had been promised in a Bonding as well."

Tony's gaze lingered on hers as he considered this possibility. "Okay, that could be so, but damn it, you think they would have clued me in about this stuff at some point."

"Perhaps they were forbidden from doing so," Jarvis interjected softly. "I have looked over several Bonding agreements, and the majority of them seem to hold a version of non-disclosure until the offspring in question reaches a certain age, usually twenty-one."

"Which means I was denied information that could have affected this whole decision," Tony pointed out. "Nobody showed up to let me know about any Fey heritage until this *week,* so I consider that pretty awkward."

"True, but I doubt that as a legal point that it has any precedent, sir. Fairy promises are notoriously weighted on the side of the Fey."

"Oh!" Pepper murmured, and turned back to the screen, typing furiously for a long moment. "You'll need a blood test, to find out just what percentage of Fey you actually *are,* Mr. Stark."

Tony made a face. "Not sure if I really want to know."

"It could be a bargaining factor, especially compared to your, um, candidates," Pepper pointed out softly. "After all, there's a reason you've been Bonded, right?"

"You've just earned yourself a year's worth of Fortingall's, Miss Potts," Tony nodded, realizing the truth of her words. "Knowledge is power, and I'm going to need all of that I can get. Let's get tested."


	4. Chapter 4

Pepper wasn't sure she could handle any more ego on Tony's part; now that he understood the power of Charm he was on the verge of overdoing it with nearly everyone he met, and several times she had to discreetly remind him to behave. He'd flirted with the meter maid outside the doctor's office, the front room receptionist, the janitor in the hallway, and looked as if he was going to score with the triage nurse as well before she finally stepped on his foot to break his concentration.

"Ow!" he hissed, shooting her an annoyed glance. "What was *that* for?"

"For blatant idiocy, Mr. Stark," she replied serenely. "We're here for a blood test, not to collect a harem."

"Someone's jealous," Tony smirked. "Incredible. I didn't think you *cared,* Potts!"

"I care about you not ending up with more contenders than the Miss Universe pageant. Tone. It. Down."

Doctor Fiske was a whip-thin African American man with quiet elegance. He also had Fey blood. Doctor Fiske listened carefully to Pepper recite Tony's medical history and health as he signed the Arc non-disclosure form, tested the man's reflexes and examined his back and wings.

"Dragonfly, with touches of Moth; a good combination for strength and endurance," came the quiet observation. "Have you flown? Without your Iron Man suit, that is?"

"No," Tony admitted. "Dreamed it, though."

"That counts," Doctor Fiske told him cheerfully. "You'll have better maneuverability than most, and all the practice with your Suit will help."

"Why is this all happening *now?*" Tony demanded, pulling on his shirt again and buttoning it up. "From what I read, most people like this tend to um, pop wings just after puberty."

"True, but there are late bloomers in every aspect of life," Doctor Fiske pointed out. "And forgive me for mentioning it, but the trauma of losing your parents could have been a factor as well. It's possible you might never have budded without this—" he tapped Tony's arc lightly, "—changing your metabolism and body chemistry. You sublimated all your latent talents into your Suit, but eventually your body caught up. Let's have a look and see exactly what percent Fey you are, Mr. Stark."

He excused himself and carried the vial out of the room; Tony looked at Pepper while he did up his cuffs. "Will he be able to tell which parent it was, too?"

"I think so," Pepper nodded, "Tony . . . I *am* worried. I don't know what exactly will happen if you don't go through with the Bonding Agreement, but it might be . . . serious."

"More serious than being betrayed by your mentor and nearly murdered then held for ransom in a foreign country for three months?" Tony replied, his voice light but his words hard. "More serious than losing control of your company and having a fight to the death with someone you trusted?"

"Tony--" Pepper whispered, her eyes starting to sting, "I--"

"Don't need to say anything, Miss Potts. I may be a late bloomer, but I'm a damned quick study, and nobody's going to make me do *anything* I don't want to do. I think you can testify to that."

He flashed her a quick smile; despite the cheer in it, his eyes were slightly haunted, and before she could stop herself, Pepper slid a hand along his shoulder in a quick, comforting caress.

Tony bit back a purr. "You keep *doing* that--"

The door opened, and Doctor Fiske re-entered, his expression chagrined and delighted at the same time. Carefully he closed the door, then handed a printout to Tony, his voice slightly strained. "Mr. Stark, this is . . . unprecedented. Truly, and I've been working with Fey clients for upwards of twenty-two years now. According to this, you're nearly seventy three percent Fey, and from *both* sides of your family!"

"And that's good?" Tony asked dubiously, staring at the paper in an attempt to decipher it.

Doctor Fiske gave a snort of amusement. "In terms of bloodline, yes, it is. I can see now why there was a Bond agreement for your parents—clearly the big wings saw the potential if they succeeded in producing offspring."

"That sounds so . . . coldly clinical," Tony pointed out. "Calculated."

"It does," Doctor Fiske agreed, "But then again, human and Fey culture have some differences, Mr. Stark, and without meaning to alarm you, I can state that you are a valuable potential contributor to keeping the Fey element strong for this and the next generation."

"First time in my life I've earned the title 'stud' . . . and I don't think I want it," Tony sighed. "Okay then. I'm more Fey than human?"

"No, that's not how it works," Doctor Fiske assured him. "You're human, Mr. Stark. We *all* are . . . it's just that a small percentage of the population carry Fey DNA chromosomes fused with our human ones. There are markers in the blood that those of us in the know are trained to spot and measure, but beyond that, we all live very *human* lives."

"Some of us excessively so," Pepper murmured, earning a slight smirk from the doctor, and a scowl from Tony.

He hopped off the exam table and let Pepper help him with his coat, then spun and looked again at Doctor Fiske. "Thanks. I appreciate the info."

"I appreciate the trust, Mr. Stark. Good luck," the doctor replied, simply, and shook Tony's hand.

In the limo, Tony reached for the bottles in the bar, pouring himself a finger of scotch and downing it in a single gulp. Pepper shot him a commiserating look and said nothing.

Tony sniffed. "So. I have to choose a . . . mate in roughly six hours, Miss Potts."

"So it seems, Mr. Stark," she replied. "I've . . . received instructions for the . . . event, in fact, and they've agreed to hold it at the Arboretum."

"Convenient," Tony replied, making a face.

Pepper nodded and went on. "You're required to wear, um, culturally pertinent formalwear for the evening. Altered for your wings, of course."

"Dress up," Tony sighed. "Fairy Dating Game, but without the cheesy Herb Alpert music and questions loaded with innuendo. And for what? Making fairy babies? Seriously Pepper; do I even *look* like daddy material?"

Tony," she murmured, her eyes kind, her smirk knowing.

"You're going to be there, right?" Tony asked her softly. "I mean I can't really face this without my major domo, and I don't think Cupid will beat me up *too* much if you're there to witness it."

"Cupid won't touch you; I promise," Pepper assured him.

"Okay then. Do you . . . *know* the guy?" Tony asked. The limo was heading up the highway, he noted.

"I've . . . met him before," Pepper admitted cautiously. "Years ago. The Fey can spot him at work."

"Did he stick *you?*" Tony demanded, looking alarmed. "Jesus--!"

"No. I watched him get a nice little couple together down in the typing pool of Stark Industries. It was . . . sweet."

"It seems unnatural," Tony grumbled, fingers playing on the scotch bottle but not lifting it. "Falling in love shouldn't happen because some gorilla with cutesy arrows targets your ass."

She shrugged, and her smile had that mysterious glamour to it that Tony was learning to spot as Fey. "No, because in nature, courtship dances and mating rituals are ALL based on logic, right?"

He gave a conceding grunt. "There is no logic to the heart, but I'll tell you *this,* Miss Potts: I'm not going to make it easy for that bastard, that's for sure."

*** *** ***

The Jelpers Arboretum was a beautiful grove in a small canyon north of Malibu; privately funded, it had one of the finest collections of native and imported trees set in a well-cultivated spread of ten acres. It was available for private functions, and this evening, in a wry and very Fey turn of events, the gate was manned by large and unsmiling men who looked as if they could juggle mountain lions.

When Tony and Pepper arrived, they dismissed Happy, who wasn't very at leaving them at the gate. Pepper worked a little Charm on the driver in an effort to soothe him. "Don't worry; I'll call when we need you, I promise. We'll be fine."

The latter was more of a hope than a reassurance, but it was all Pepper could offer, and with a doubtful nod, Happy turned the limo, heading back down the road to the main town a few miles away. Pepper watched him go, and then turned to glance at Tony, who was smoothing down his kilt.

The Stark tartan was wool, green, mostly, and went with the black velvet jacket and grey hare sporran. Tony seemed indifferent to his rakish charm in it, and clomped in his brogans towards the gate; a man on his way to an unpleasant duty. The guards looked down at him, and he squared his shoulders. "Okay, okay. Anthony Stark, only son of Howard and Maria Stark, Water born."

The two figures didn't move; Tony sighed and let his wings slide out. At that point, the guards shifted, their respect grudging, but genuine. Tony strode through, glancing back once to see if Pepper was following. The guards let her pass, and she hurried to keep up with Tony, pulling her blue angora shawl more closely around her shoulders.

The pavilion stood on a platform over the stream, making a picturesque setting, and there were a good twenty people milling around, chatting and making the endless small talk that seemed to be required at gathering everywhere. Pepper knew many of the faces from the Internet photos, and quietly named them for Tony as they approached. "That's Ellison Macht, who runs F-Net and all the associated web businesses; that's Dolly San Dorian, Director of the west coast office, and over there, that's, um, Mab."

"Mab?" Tony muttered, dim memories of Shakespeare rising in his brain. "THE Mab?"

"Apparently . . . yes," Pepper replied in a low, awed voice. "She, along with Cupid and a few others are the last generation of full-blooded Fey on the planet. The fact that she's here for this is very impressive, Tony. It's quite an honor."

The woman in question was small and frail-looking, with curly silver-white hair and dark eyes. She wore a pantsuit of black velvet, and had a carved cane of black wood topped with a globe of silver.

"She looks like she just stepped out of a gingerbread cottage in the woods," Tony whispered. "Do I have gumdrops on my breath?"

"Tony!" Pepper muttered, trying not to smile despite herself. "You need to behave."

"Can't *make* me," he teased, but gave a nod, and stepped forward. Mab looked up; Tony was taller than she by nearly five inches. She scowled at him.

"Knew your father. Ambitious man. Your mother was too good for him," Mab announced, her voice unexpectedly deep. "He loved her though."

"That's . . . good," Tony muttered, not sure of what to say. Mab arched a white brow at him and the corners of her mouth twitched in wry amusement. She shifted her gaze from Tony to Pepper, and for a moment the two women looked at each other.

Mab spoke. "Moon lover, you've done your job in delivering him. You are dismissed."

Pepper stiffened, and gave a small nod, then turned and began to move away, trying to keep her face averted. She'd been dreading the entire evening, trying hard to keep the truth at bay even as she pulled up the contingency wedding planner file earlier and made sure it was updated.

She had plans already set up for most of the events in Tony's life, up to and including his wedding and funeral; given his impulsive nature it seemed wise to be prepared for anything, and Pepper was an organized soul. She'd kept the plans updated, working hard to stay objective about them, but the wedding one always made her chest ache in a way she refused to acknowledge, all the way up until now.

The ache was nearly unbearable at the moment, tears held back by sheer stubbornness.

"She stays with me," Tony announced in a quiet, firm tone. "Non-negotiable."

Mab's eyebrow went up again, but she didn't argue. Instead, she cocked her head and moved off without another word. Tony inclined his head in grudging respect, then shot a sidelong glance at Pepper.

She tried to look calm, but there was a flush to her face; she could feel it, and knew that Tony could see it as well. One corner of his mouth quirked up. "I'm getting the hang of this."

"She's got more Dragonfly in her little finger than you do in your entire body, Mr. Stark," Pepper warned, her voice shaky as she said it.

Tony took a moment to lean down and whisper in Pepper's ear. "Don't care. Nobody dismisses you. Ever."

Before Pepper would say anything, or fight the rolling sweetness in the pit of her stomach, the sound of glass chimes rang out over the assembled group and everyone looked up expectantly. Above them, a startling and beautiful flying formation of five figures flew into sight, turning in perfect unison before slowly coming to touch down a few feet up along one side of the valley. People politely applauded, and the flyers gave brief nods.

The three women in the center were flanked by two men, all of them with moth or butterfly wings. The men were in formalwear, the women in fancy dress, and the effect was of an escort.

Tony gave a soft snort, unimpressed. "If this is the way Fey things are done, they seriously need a shake-up around here."

The sudden appearance of Cupid made more people murmur again, and Tony broadened his stance, looking wary. "Ah yes, Mr. Touchy-Feely. This looks like fun."

"The Time of Union is now upon us," Cupid rumbled, and even though he hadn't raised his voice, it seemed to carry throughout the glade. "We are here to witness the Bond of a pledged Water Born to the Life Mate of his choice."

Tony noted the approach of one of the escorts; he and Pepper were led to a smaller area of the pavilion that was slightly raised and further over the water of the stream below. Tony moved to the center of it, casually resting his hands on the rail.

"Miss Potts--" came his murmur, "I have to ask . . ."

"Yes, Mr. Stark?" she replied, trying to pay attention to him and the group at the same time.

"You like the skirt, right? I mean, for a fairy, I'm still . . ."

"You're still very . . . macho, Tony, yes," she sighed, hiding a smirk. He squared his shoulders in the jacket and sighed; Cupid was inviting people to move back and was starting to escort the three women forward.

With the general noise of the crowd as cover, Tony leaned towards Pepper once more and added, "Okay, when I pick *you,* act surprised, okay?"

"What? Tony! You can't *do* that!" she hissed back, eyes wide. "I'm not a contender, and . . . and it's---"

"—the best choice," Tony cut her off absently. "Just go with me on this; I had Jarvis check out the agreement—"

And then Cupid strode forward, looking more formal in a sleeveless suede tunic of dark red, with small gold fetishes sewn on it, but muscles bulging, teeth gleaming. He waved a hand, and the people before him shifted away, not all of them voluntarily. Behind him, the three contenders followed, smiling to everyone, their wings glittering.

Cupid looked at Tony and managed an expression that promised things of a painful nature. "You showed up. Good, although hunting you down could have been fun too."

"A Stark is as good as his word," Tony replied, his tone utterly serious.

The crowd murmured approval of this, and even Cupid gave a slow nod. "Touché, Oh Needle of the Devil."

Tony looked askance; Pepper murmured, "An epithet for those with Dragonfly in them."

"I knew that," he bluffed. "I just didn't like his tone."

Cupid heard that and his expression shifted to faint amusement. "As we all know, the penalty for noncompliance in a Pledge is severe. In your case, Stark, it would mean saying bye-bye to your entire fortune, since it was built on the initial input of Fey gold. Oh, and we get to surgically cut your wings off." Cupid managed a somewhat pleased expression. "The big Snipowitz, so to speak."

Tony stood stock still, but blinked a few times, and Pepper could feel him tense up. "Potts, you never said anything about *that* part!" He managed in a sotto whisper out of the corner of his mouth.

"I didn't think they'd um, *do* it, Tony!" She hissed back, her tone slightly miserable.

"Yeah, well I suppose that's what I get for pissing Arrow Boy off. Bluff. Time to bluff, Pepper—"

Cupid waved a hand toward the three woman. "Your aspirants, Stark. Ladies?"

The first one was familiar to Tony; Elise Marcov winked at him knowingly and stepped forward, her figure in a gold metallic mini-dress. "Elise Marcov, Field Born, sixty-three percent. Pledge to me and I'll make you . . . happy."

"Doubt it," Tony muttered under his breath, but he gave her a perfunctory smile.

The next woman stepped forward; a thin blonde with smooth tresses and big blue eyes that matched her two-piece dress. "I'm Shari. Shari Wilkerdoon, and I'm, um, Water Born. Almost half, they tell me. And I'm not in it for your money at *all.* You look nice."

"Yeah," Tony sighed softly, but managed more of a smile to Shari, who dimpled and wiggled her fingertips at him.

"And I'm Renata Bentancourt," came the confident and sultry tones of the last woman. She was a beautiful shade of mahogany, and her smile was genuine. "Mountain-born, mostly moth, Mr. Stark. "

He nodded approvingly, liking her quiet, understated style, and for a long moment nobody said anything.

The pause went on, and finally Mab lifted her walking stick, her expression ever so slightly peeved. "It's not rocket science or speed dating, Stark. Choose!"

"Potts. I choose Potts," he called out loudly, making sure his voice was heard. Immediately Shari pouted and Renata shook her head, smirking.

Elise bared her teeth. "She's NOT in the running!"

Around them the crowd was shifting uneasily; people ruffled by this break in protocol and interested in what would happen. Cupid shot a look at Mab for instructions; a nod from the elder fairy and he had an arrow out in his huge fist.

"Gonna have to do this the *hard* way," Cupid muttered. "Lucky for me I *like* the hard way."

"You know, I sort of got that," Tony replied, and in a quick, almost dance-like move, snatched the arrow from Cupid's grip. The watching crowd gave a gasp and Cupid himself growled.

"You don't want to mess with that, Stark."

"And neither do you," Tony pointed out. "But I'll use it if I have to, so listen up."

As he spoke, Tony waved the arrow like a baton, passing it almost under Cupid's nose. "I'm. Choosing. Miss Potts. According to the Pledge made by my parents on my behalf, the terms were less than defined. I was to Bond with someone and I quote, 'of Fey blood' unquote. No comment about what percentage, or what lineage in the entire document. However, since the Pledge clearly leaves the choice up to little old me, then I've fulfilled the terms of the stated agreement in making the selection I've made."

No one spoke for a long, tense moment, and slowly, the crowd turned to look at Mab, who stood glaring at Tony. She looked as if she wanted to take the staff in her gnarled hand and rap him on the top of the head. Hard.

Pepper felt rather the same way.

Then unexpectedly, Mab smiled, and in that moment, the full force of her Glamour flared out over the company in a wave of anticipation; that giddy excitement before the first drop of a rollercoaster rose in everyone. "Oh by all means, Anthony. IF . . . she'll have you."

The tension shifted back to Tony; the crowd turned like spectators at a particularly intense tennis match.

He shot a sidelong glance at Pepper, his expression going pale at this unforeseen coda. "Pepper? Sort of hanging here. A nice 'yes' would be good about now."

"Tony," she squeaked, flushing at the sudden weight of attention.

"Being poor I can handle," he babbled in an undertone to her, "I can work my way from the bottom if I have to, but the wing thing? Um, help?"

But Pepper wasn't looking at him now; her gaze was on Mab, who was staring back, dark eyes flashing with hints of silver in a kaleidoscope effect . "Up to you, little Moon lover," Mab purred, sounding like a tabby over a baby mouse. "You know what this will entail. How loyal are you, truly?"

Pepper lifted her chin and inclined her head to Tony, her voice a soft and urgent whisper. "Use the arrow on me."


	5. Chapter 5

_Pepper lifted her chin and inclined her head to Tony, her voice a soft and urgent whisper. "Use the arrow on me."_

"What?" Tony pulled back a little, but Pepper half-turned, presenting her backside and she cocked a hip at him, as if waiting for a shot.

"Just *do* it, Mr. Stark, if you want the two of us to get out of this . . . alive."

"You want *me* to jab you in the ass with . . . an arrow?" Tony seemed alternately fascinated and repulsed by the idea. "In front of all these people!?"

Pepper glared at him over her shoulder. "Yes. Now."

Wincing, Tony gave a small shrug and swung the dart underhand with some hesitation; Pepper pushed back at the same time and the arrow pinned the back of her skirt against her slender cheek with a soft little squeak, vanishing on contact.

"Okay, that was weirdly . . . erotic," Tony confessed. "Ranks up there as probably the kinkiest--"

He didn't get to finish; Pepper gave a longing moan and turned, launching herself into his arms, cupping his face and kissing it frantically. "Oh I love you, I love you, I *LOVE* you so much Mr. Stark!"

The sudden and yet delightful pouncing was enough to throw Tony off-balance and he caught her, torn between kissing her back and trying to pay attention to the fifty or so people watching them in complete fascination. Pepper had no particular inhibitions, and leaped into Tony's arms, her moth wings sprouting and fluttering, her cloak falling to the wooden planks of the bridge.

People applauded. Cupid gave a grunt of annoyance at being upstaged, but Mab waved him away and turned to the three contenders, moving to place one gnarled hand on each woman's forehead in a sort of blessing.

Tony only caught glimpses of all this as he held Pepper in his arms. She continued to shower kisses on his face, her enthusiasm overwhelming him. "Pepper, honey, um . . ."

"You are so cuuuuuuute!" she murmured to him, eyes bright with love. "I love your beard and I love your big brown eyes and your aftershave!"

"Yeah, thanks. Ohhh . . ." He tried not to moan when Pepper began to nibble his neck, her warm lips sliding along his skin, her hands slipping along his wings. "Okay, yeah, this is working out *well* . . ."

Mab held up one wrinkled hand, her voice echoing from everywhere. People paused respectfully to listen. "The pledge is made; the promise sealed over water and under moon," a deep voice intoned. "Let what is bound here stand until the time of Union comes again. So be it."

Surging forward, the guests began offering him congratulations; it was difficult to shake hands with his arms full of kissy Pepper, and she didn't seem at *all* inclined to get down, so Tony settled for nodding as his personal assistant showered him with PDAs. She didn't weigh much, and Tony definitely enjoyed the feel of her up against him, her perfume in his nose.

Carefully he made his way off the bridge and towards the gate, paging about the limo and wondering how quickly Happy could get back to pick them up. Given the wriggly impatience of the lovely package in his embrace, Tony suspected they might not have much time before some immediate sort of consummation happened. His wings flicked in anticipation, and the two guards let him pass, the pair of them managing small grins.

Pepper was nearly panting now, and Tony tried to talk to her, but she was nibbling his chin, and he felt weak in the knees at the hot little nips she bestowed along his jaw. "Slow down sweetheart, let's wait at least until we're in the car . . ."

"Oh the moonlight . . ." Pepper purred, "It makes you so *sexy* . . ."

Within ten minutes Happy and the limo were there, looking wary but not saying anything; the sight of her wings didn't seem to faze him, but a swooning, kissy Pepper being carried by Tony did cause a flicker of concern. Tony stuffed Pepper into the Limo and shot Happy a look over the car door. "Costume thing. Too much champagne. Home, Hogan."

"Sir."

The glass screen divider went up and Tony tinted it, settling into the seat with a sigh of relief. He'd managed to retract his wings but it was . . . difficult, given the degree of arousal involved. Here in the semi-darkness of the back seat though . . . Tony leaned towards Pepper, reaching for her eagerly.

"Hands to *yourself,* Mr. Stark," came her cool, cool voice.

Tony froze, mid-lunge. One hand flicked up to the dome light and he turned it on, his eyes on Pepper, who was on the far side of the seat, arms crossed, wings retracted, expression . . . neutral. Gone was the lovesick giggly girl of moments before, replaced by the ever efficient and calm PA.

"Pepper?" he demanded uncertainly, cocking his head. The one hundred and eighty degree shift had him a *tad* concerned, and if truth be known, really achy in a few unmentionable places.

"Thanks to you, we're in an incredibly difficult situation, Tony, and I do *not* appreciate being put on the spot like this," she growled in a slightly squeaky voice. "Do you have *any* idea what we're expected to DO at this point?"

"Sort of, yes. I think it involves hot, wild, wing-fondling sex?"

"Not going to happen," Pepper shook her head in a twitchy fashion. "If you had even *bothered* cluing me in on what you were going to DO tonight Tony, I could have told you what a *bad* idea it was and we could have brainstormed another way, but no, you *had* to go with your usual grandstanding . . ."

" . . . Cut me some slack here Pepper! I'm not about to carry out any half-assed *bond* made over three and a half decades ago! Pledging my Fey heritage with some total stranger, no matter how hot, is not my style," Tony grunted. "Any more," he corrected himself. "You know damned well if I'd picked any of those three we'd be in a much *worse* situation."

"Yes, well there are ways to get around that," Pepper shot back, her chin trembling a bit.

"Like *how?*" Tony sneered lightly. The pause that followed this question was damning answer enough, and to cover her anger, Pepper flounced, re-arranging her skirt a bit more. Tony watched her with sardonic amusement. "Exactly. Better the devil you know—oh, and while we're at it, why the ice queen now? Given the serious face sucking you were pulling on me not five minutes ago, we should be halfway to fairy babytown by now!"

"I had to *ACT* infatuated to get Mab and Cupid to believe the arrow worked," Pepper muttered, arms still crossed. "Cupid would have shot whatever candidate you'd chosen anyway, so as far as the Fey world knows, we're Bonded."

"Yeah, I can *feel* the love," came the low grumble from the other side of the seat. "I need a drink."

"Make it two," Pepper sighed.

*** *** ***

The breaking news of Stark's Bond was the splash on F-Net, and Tony was dourly amused that so many Fey even cared; the congratulations poured in, carefully couched in innuendoes and flowers kept showing up at the house.

Pepper rerouted all of them to various hospitals after collecting the notes and disposing of them. One of the prettiest bouquets was from Renata Betancourt who graciously wished them all the best; nothing came from the other two contenders.

The awkwardness between Tony and Pepper had hardened into a carefully bland formality and all conversations were filled with 'Mr. Stark' and "Miss Potts' in them. Anyone listening in would have thought the two of them barely knew each other, and when visiting, Rhodey had taken Tony aside and demanded to know what the fight was about.

"She won't have my baby," Tony announced dryly. The fact that it bordered on the truth was moot; Rhodey made a wearily skeptical face and crossed his arms.

"Seriously man—it's got to take a lot to piss Pepper off. How much did you drink? Who did you sleep with?"

"It's nothing like that, and anyway, I'm not," Tony made finger quotes in the air, "*in-DUL-ging* in that sort of hedonistic distraction anymore in case you hadn't noticed."

"Actually, I *hadn't* noticed," Rhodey admitted with a sheepish smirk. "So—did you total her Audi? Torch her shoe collection?"

"God no!" Tony looked alarmed. "I'd be singing soprano for that last case! No, it's just a little . . . misunderstanding of a personal nature, and I'm sure it's going to blow over soon. I hope."

"Yeah, well given the frigid temperatures around here, I hope so too," Rhodey muttered, rubbing his upper arms. "Baby, it's *cold* inside, you know?"

"I know," Tony agreed sourly. And he did; nothing seemed capable of thawing Pepper's calculated distance; not pleading, arguing, nor bribes of a chocolate nature. If he didn't have the warm and delicious memories of those kisses at the Arboretum, Tony might have believed her act to be just that . . . but a deeper, more mammalian part of him knew better.

Pepper had kissed him, and kissed him with serious intent. Whatever her verbal claims, her touch, her tongue and scent had said otherwise and her denial irked the hell out of Tony. He brooded about it all through his mission to the outskirts of Sari-Pul while taking out a terrorist training camp that had the unfortunate luck of installing Stark Industries GPS devices on their Russian armaments.

On the way back, Tony finally spoke up. "Jarvis, scan F-Net for information on Cupid's arrows."

"Certainly, sir. To what end?"

"Design, capacity, function and effect, primarily."

It didn't take long; Jarvis understood Tony's preference for the summation over the full synopsis of any query and quietly fed him the facts.

Tony's expression shifted from frustration to a grim and slightly dangerous mien, and he gave a nod of satisfaction. "That explains a few things. Home, Jarvis—I have to have a little talk with a certain Moth girl."

By the time he reached Malibu, it was nearly midnight, and the pale sweet light of a gibbous moon shone through the shreds of cotton ball clouds. The tide was low, exposing a long pale stretch of beach, and Tony could smell the brine through the filters of the mask.

He came through the garage in a grand sweep of power, and touched down easily, standing as the disassembly of the Suit happened around him. Tony caught sight of Pepper making her way down the steps; clearly she'd heard him arrive and was probably about to bid him goodnight after making sure he was still in one piece.

Tony fought a smile and kept his expression impassive. Once freed of the upper part of the Suit, he peeled off the foam liner shirt, Velcro making a muted ripping sound as he did so. It felt great to be free; long-term confinement had always been one of the issues with the Suit that irked Tony to a slight degree; despite all its bells and whistles, he was aware of the sarcophagus effect.

Bare-chested, he concentrated for a moment, and felt his wings slide out; a quick, cool snap to the process that sent a shiver of pleasure through him. Tony supposed that there were nerve endings along the wings that connected with the ones that ran through his groin, and that probably explained the thrill, but at the moment, he was more concerned about other things.

Like flexing.

He rolled his head from side to side, feeling the tension abate in a series of soft pops, and drew in a deep breath. The lovely familiar scent of home—motor oil, ozone, scorched plastic—helped him relax as he ran his hands through his hair.

"Mr. Stark," came Pepper's voice from across the garage, her tone soft and faintly worried. He turned, not meeting her gaze and rolled his shoulders in slow calculation, putting the maximum flex to his wings, and it felt damned good.

"Hmmm?" he managed, putting just enough absence into it to make it clear he wasn't noticing her. In truth Tony was, but the whole point was to keep her looking at him, and nothing irritated Pepper more than having to repeat herself, this he knew from long experience.

"I take it you're all right?" she murmured. Tony turned, undid the Velcro waistband for the bottom half of the liner and stretched both arms up, feeling the lovely tug of muscles too long confined.

The move also let the liner slide lower on his hips to reveal the top quarter of a cheekier side than he usually shared with Pepper; by her little gasp Tony knew she'd seen him.

At least, part of him.

"Sore lower back," he lied, bringing his hands down to slide along the part in question, rubbing it. Exposing more of it.

Yes it was shameless, but Tony was tired of putting up with the cold shoulder treatment. Pepper needed a little shaking up.

Pepper needed more than that, he amended mentally, but this was a good start. Tony turned to face her, snagging the liner with one hand, keeping it up barely high enough to cover the goods. "Got any more of that Fortingall's?"

"It's not really . . . for skin," she managed, but he caught her swallowing even as Pepper kept her gaze front and center. "You might need some Flexall."

"Great idea," Tony mumbled. "I know you're on your way out, so I can send Dummy to get it." He innocently shifted again, and the back of the liner dropped away, like the flap panel of a union suit.

Tony closed his eyes and faked a yawn, mostly to cover his amusement when Pepper gave a barely perceptible whimper. Somehow without even looking, he could tell that she was trying very hard not to let her *own* wings expand; it might have been a faint change in her scent, but whatever it was, Tony caught the shift.

Close.

"'Scuse me, Miss Potts," he purred. "I know you're probably anxious to take off, but are those things I have to sign?" Tony gestured to the file she had clutched in her hand; Pepper glanced down at it, seemingly startled to find it there.

"Ohh, um, yes. The annual update on the recycling initiatives for the main offices in New York, Dallas and San Francisco . . ."

"Give," Tony grunted, reaching for the file. His leaning gave her a lovely view right down the inside edge of the liner, exposing the ridge of his hipbone and pale muscle there, looking carved in ivory marble.

Pepper fought a tremble.

It wasn't fair, she argued with herself, that Tony would take so quickly and *ruthlessly* to his own Fey heritage. It had taken her *years* to acclimate to wings, and Charm and quick healing. She'd debated on being clipped and even now there were times when the appeal of giving up the dichotomy seemed wise.

And here he was flaunting, *flaunting* his birthright as if he was born to it!

That made no sense, Pepper realized with chagrin. She handed over the papers and refused to release them; Tony tugged playfully. "Let go."

Let go.

It was precisely what Pepper *wanted* to do. What the moonlight and the quick thrumming of her pulse was *demanding* she do. Pepper had been fighting the insidious pull of Cupid's Arrow for nearly a week, and the tension in her frame was now so high she felt that one trip and she'd shatter, like a Lalique vase.

And now here was Tony, wings out and glittering in the florescent light, looking *far* too sexy for either of them to cope with.

Pepper closed her eyes and spoke rapidly, her words tumbling out like pearls from a broken strand. "Tony, you're hurting me. As your Bond Mate, yes, I want you very, very much. But on the human level, I am still your employee, and a woman with no official boyfriend or husband. When I show up pregnant, the media is going to start in, and that sort of gossip will drive the reputation and value of Stark stock into the gutter, not to mention undermine the status all the employees you have around the world. Have you even *thought* of that?"

"I . . ." came his pause. "So we'll use protection."

This statement made Pepper chuckle. "Is that your answer? Try to circumvent the Bond by contraception?" she opened her eyes, and things were worse because the hurt and soulful look in Tony's eyes simply magnified his sexiness.

"I *want* you," he murmured. "More than I've ever wanted anyone, and I wasn't even the one to get an arrow in the ass. I *know* what those pheromones are doing to you, Pepper, but even before that, things between us weren't *all* just a figment of my imagination, fertile as that playground can be."

That made her smile. "The problem is that your imagination isn't the only thing that's fertile. Bonding is the first step in breeding, Tony."

"Maybe it's time," he countered, moving closer to her and reaching one hand out to touch her arm. "Maybe having a baby *is* the right thing to do. After all, I'm established, reasonably intelligent and in a position to take care of you and a child. And even if you don't *want* to name me as the father—"

"Tony!" she snapped, feeling the sharp pang of teary frustration, "The Fey world already knows you're Bonded to me, and as for the *rest* of the world—"

"So marry me," he murmured, his hand coming up to lightly caress her upper arm. "Pepper, I read up on Arrows, and I know that the reason it didn't affect you is because you were—are—already in love with me."

She chuffed, caught by surprise. Pepper turned her head, cheeks flushing. "That's not true!"

"Is too," Tony shot back, grinning. "You want to pop your wings SO badly right now, I can *tell.*"

Pepper shifted her gaze back to him, and for a moment her expression was so fierce and beautiful that Tony forgot to breathe. She leaned in, tipping her face as if to kiss him, and the warmth of her breath brushed his lips as she spoke. "Tony, I love you. You only *want* me. *That's* why this Bond is never going to work."

He froze.

She pulled back, composed herself and murmured, "Will that be all, Mr. Stark?"

Tony stayed stock-still, and Pepper moved away, slipping through the glass doors and up the stairs again, leaving him in the emptiness of his garage.

He blinked, unmoving for a long time.

*** *** ***

It took forever to fall asleep, and Tony was desperate for it. Not for the rest itself, although his body demanded that, but for the one desperate opportunity to DO something about Pepper's claim. He resisted the reckless urge to drink himself into unconsciousness, but only because he needed the sobriety once asleep.

Finally he dropped off, curled up on the battered sofa in the garage, reaming of the glade, wings retracted. Tony stomped through the stream, looking around, daring anyone else to stop by.

No one did, and he took a deep breath, knowing full well what he HAD to do. Cupping his hands around his mouth, Tony Stark bellowed out, "Cupid plays with himself!!"

For a moment nothing happened, but then a faint tinge of red colored the glade, and the trees seemed to quake. Tony looked around and shouted again. "The last bull's eye Cupid made was on his OWN fat ass! If he could screw himself, he WOULD!"

The tinge went *violent* red in a matter of seconds, and a rumble, not unlike an earthquake, made the ground tremble.

"Oh keep it UP, Stark and you're gonna need a LOT of dental work, Bug-splat!" came the un-amused growl. Cupid roared into the glade on a customized Harley of red and gold; Tony had a moment of envy that disappeared under the flare of panic as the motorcycle rumbled towards him, the spiked wheels looking deadly.

"No, no, it's cool!" Tony called, dodging the first rush of the bike and turning to keep it in sight. "I didn't *mean* any of it, I just needed a way to get you here!"

The Harley spun, ripping up turf and splashing water everywhere, but Cupid held back, gunning it a little and waiting for Tony to continue. His expression had all the compassionate understanding of a guillotine blade. "Is that so?"

"Completely. You are *not* a guy I want to get on the bad side of," Tony admitted gravely, "for any reason. I just couldn't see myself begging in my dreams, and having you take me seriously, so I figured if I went with some big, very *false* insults, you'd show, and we could talk. Mano a God-o, so to speak."

Cupid grunted, although his gaze still glittered with a cold edge. "I'll say this much Antonio; you've got a pair. Whether you hang onto them . . . that's up for debate. So talk."

"Potts. I love her," Tony blurted, desperation in his tone.

Cupid shrugged his massive shoulders. "Old news, Prettyboy. I think the better part of Feydom caught onto that with your little ass jab out at the Bonding."

"Yes, well *she* seems to be missing the point, arrow notwithstanding! Pepper loves me, but she thinks I'm just in it for the sex!"

Cupid managed a grin; it took effort, and the effect was frightening; like a gargoyle contemplating baby pigeons for lunch. "Yeah, how's that going? Is there a problem there?"

Tony winced, and gave a defeated sigh. "You're Cupid; you *know* how it's going. I need a favor from you, and I'm willing to cut you a deal for it."

"Oh this I *gotta* hear," Cupid murmured, leaning back on the red and gold Harley, his weight making the bike creak. "You have any idea how much you sound like your old man right now?"

"What?" Distracted, Tony blinked. "What the hell are you talking about? This is important. My dad?"

Cupid managed a rumbly chuckle. "Oh yeah. Your mama couldn't stand Howard Stark for shit, and he begged me for an intervention, long time ago. I had a pretty good time stringing him along, but it was in the stars anyway, so things worked out."

"What a minute—in the stars? As in pre-destined? How do I know Potts and I aren't the same way?" Tony folded his arms and leaned back.

"Because while *you* were promised pre-birth, hotshot, *she* wasn't," Cupid groused back. "So let's hear your proposition, punk Princeling, because I've got three Bond mates back at home getting the chocolate syrup and handcuffs ready."

Tony tried hard not to wince at the image and cleared his throat. "Yeah, okay, it goes like this—you go vouch for me to Pepper. Stop by her dream, tell her the *truth* about how I feel, and I'll give you . . ." he trailed off, looking desperate and lost. ". . . shit, whatever you want that I can deliver."

Neither man spoke for a moment, and the entire glade went silent. Even the brook seemed to cease making a sound, and Tony didn't dare glance to see if the fish were eavesdropping.

Cupid slowly leaned forward, resting his elbows on the crossbar of the bike, leather creaking as he shifted. "Are you for *real,* Antonio? Seriously? You are *that* much in love with the Moon maid?"

Tony didn't hesitate; the truth slipped out the way it always does: simply. "Yes."

Cupid paused a long moment, his gaze traveling over Tony, who stood there, barefoot and in jeans. He worked up a small growl, but it lacked animosity, and when Tony didn't react, Cupid sighed, instead. "Anything?"

"If it's in my power," Tony promised.

Cupid cocked his massive head and looked skyward, the beginnings of a small smile creaking over his face. "You know—we might just have a deal then, Princeling, because it just so happens that you got some tech I *might* be talked into taking in trade."

Tony held his breath a second, and then nodded back. "A Stark," he repeated firmly, "is as good as his word. What can I fix you up with, Cupid Aizen Myō-ō Kamadeva Bes?"


	6. Chapter 6

Pepper wandered through the field, trying not to let her melancholia affect things TOO much, but the wheat was black, and an icy wind blew in a desolate howl across the wide plains, lamenting the darkness. No stars shone overhead; the moon was new, and occult.

She spoke in a low, discouraged tone to the plushy penguin who ambled beside her. ". . . can't take much more of this, Augie. I'm probably going to have to quit. And you know I *hate* job hunting."

"And you're in love with the big jerk," the penguin muttered in a deep voice. "'Ginia, you got through business school while holding down two jobs—one of them the night shift. You can get over *this,* I promise ya, babe."

"That was different," Pepper argued. "It wasn't about love. That was about making ends meet."

"Which is pretty much what that A-hole Stark wants to do right now. Yours to his," the penguin snickered, waddling along.

"Augie!" Pepper protested. "I didn't bring you here to slam Tony!"

"No, you brought me here because I'm the *only* one who knows all your secrets, from seven years old to now," the plush toy grumbled. "From dolls to Dior. And even before the arrow to your butt you were ga-ga for this idiot boss of yours, 'Ginia. The man is trouble with a capital T, woman! You SWORE on me you wouldn't fall for him, and look at you now!"

Pepper bit her lips before chuffing out a breath. "Yes, well I held out as long as I could, and even then he wasn't ever supposed to know it. What do I do now, Aug?"

The stuffed penguin stopped and turned to tip its head at her, one glass button eye glaring at her in a mild rebuke. "I dunno. I'm a stuffed animal; I don't *do* complicated, babe."

"Some help *you* are," Pepper sighed, scooping him up and giving him a squeeze. The penguin gave a wheezy squeak and might have said something more, but the low rumble on the horizon made Pepper look up, worriedly. In the distance, a cloud of grey dust rose, billowing up into the dark night, and the rumble got louder.

Pepper stepped back as the gleaming red and gold Harley blasted over through the meadow, flattening the ebony wheat and leaving a trail of smoking stalks behind it.

In her hug, Augie squawked. "The hell?"

"Shhhh," Pepper chided her wubby, and looked suspiciously at Cupid. He pulled the enormous bike up alongside her, and looked her over for a long moment; Pepper returned the gaze as she tucked Augie protectively under her arm.

"Mr. Bes," she acknowledged, coolly.

He inclined his massive head, and stared a bit longer at her; Pepper tried to wait him out.

Tried.

Cupid leaned back on the Harley and scratched his beard; the rasp was like Brillo on Styrofoam, and Pepper winced. "Um, is there something I can do for you?"

"That Bond mate of yours . . . he's not a masochist, is he? *Likes* getting beaten to a bloody pulp?" Cupid inquired slowly. "Usually I can read people pretty damned well, but it's possible I missed a kink with him."

"No!" Pepper spluttered, slightly indignant. "Tony isn't like that!"

"Doesn't want you to walk all over his chest in those spiky shoes of yours? Or ever talk about letting you drive needles in his scrotum, that kinda thing?"

Pepper blanched, eyes going wide with shock. "NO!"

Cupid nodded, his own expression still neutral. "Ah. Okay." He said nothing further, and the silence grew heavy with tension.

Augie peered around Pepper's tightly clutching arm. "Your dream is taking a serious left-turn into bizarre, 'Ginia. What did you *eat* before going to bed?"

"Nothing," she whispered back, never taking her eyes off Cupid. "As you might recall, I was a little too *upset* to eat!"

"Ohyeah," Augie grumbled. "Geez, loosen your grip; my stuffing's getting seriously compressed here!"

Pepper did, guiltily, and came to a decision. She stepped closer to the bike and cleared her throat, striving for a polite but cool expression. "What's this about, please?"

Cupid gave a regretful sigh. "Just checking up before I agree to do to the princeling what he wants me to do to him. No point in giving him pleasure if I can help it, you know?"

"W-what does he want you . . . to do?" came Pepper's fearful question.

Cupid gave his head a little shake. "Nah, you're a nice woman; you don't want the gory details, especially in a dream."

Pepper's eyes narrowed. "Don't you *hurt* him!"

"Moon lover--" Cupid opened his beefy hands in a 'what-can-I-do?' gesture of placation. "The man is begging me, and I'm just selfish enough to admit that it's going to be a LOT of fun to have my revenge on his disrespectful, scrawny ass. Among other places."

"Mr. Stark can be a little brusque at times, and I'm sure that if he didn't mean any insult he may have uttered," Pepper began, moving to smooth over matters. Under her arm, Augie gave a little long-suffering groan; Cupid eyed the stuffed animal for a moment, and then turned his attention back to Pepper's face.

"Yeah, well, Stark told me I could have his heart," came the low, quiet statement. "Which, being in the line I'm in, is a damn valuable commodity. One heart holds enough power for a couple thou arrows, easy. Even *his,* with all those metal slivers in it—still good, if I get it fresh."

"No," Pepper managed, her voice slow and disbelieving. "No. He wouldn't *do* that!"

"Night Dancer, the princeling called *me,* all right? Got my attention, told me everything between you two was hopeless and if I could use the damned broken lump in his chest, to take it. Hell, he actually unscrewed that nightlight of his and wanted me to reach down inside right then and there," Cupid growled. "Woulda thought the little prick was grandstanding, but when you've been around as long as I have, you can tell the bug-splat from the bullshit."

In a timeless moment, Pepper and Cupid faced each other, gazes locked.

"He . . . wanted you . . . to take . . . his *heart?*"

"Straight up."

"But if you do that in a dream, he'll . . ."

"--Never wake up, yeah. I *have* been involved in the process once or twice before," Cupid admitted with a grim nod.

Pepper threw Augie. The stuffed penguin flew threw the air and hit Cupid on the chest with a poofy 'thump' before tumbling a bit along the polished handlebars and thudding to the ground.

"Hey, hey, I am an *innocent* victim here!" came the protest from the abused plushie. "Don't use me for your rage . . . oooh, chrome! Is my nose really that big?"

Both Pepper and Cupid ignored Augie; Pepper reached up to grip the handlebars of the bike, her fingers going white as she did so.

"No! If you want Tony Stark's heart, you're going to have to go through *me* first!" she snarled in her breathless, squeaky way.

In her fury Pepper was beautiful; Cupid leaned back to admire this. He waited a full beat before inclining his head in a grave and formal way. "So you acknowledge the princeling's pitiful organ of devotion and love as *your* property, Virgina Potts, Field Born?"

The question seemed to startle her and Pepper blinked, momentarily jolted out of her rage. "Y-yes," she admitted, as much to herself as to Cupid.

"I could have told you so," came Augie's sour chime from down below. "If anybody bothered asking *me.*"

"Augie, can it," Pepper muttered, blushing now. Cupid gave a low chuckle.

"You ARE a pearl beyond price, Moon lover, and why you are devoting yourself to an arrogant, pond-skimming, needled—"

"—hey!"

"Needle-DIVER," Cupid finished, "is beyond my comprehension. Nevertheless, the man cannot give what he no longer possesses."

"That's right," Pepper jumped in gratefully. "And possession is nine tenths of the law. I think."

"This is massively disappointing, from an ass-kicking revenge perspective," Cupid sighed. "Not to mention the loss of an infusion of all that notorious Stark lust for the arrows, yet I myself am compelled to obey the very law of Love I serve."

Pepper nodded, and pushed herself away from the bike. She bent to collect Augie, who grumbled under his breath, and lightly dusted bits of black wheat off of his plush before speaking again. "I know you are, and I am going to hold you TO it, Mr. Bes. You don't like Mr. Stark; I can understand that. I can even empathize, a little bit."

She turned her gaze to Cupid, and for a second a clear flash of cold blue lit her eyes; a flare deep within them. "But he loves me, I love him, and all that happened *without* your intercession, so . . ."

"So I'm out not just one heart," Cupid growled, "but two."

"Yes," Pepper told him forthrightly, and softened for a moment. "For all the good it does."

Cupid laughed, the sound like thunder at the bottom of a mountain. "Right now the princeling is pacing around, waiting for me to return, unscrew the jar lid from his carcass and go bobbing for body parts."

Pepper winced. "Well you can't."

"I doubt he's going to take my word for it," Cupid replied, "And given his mood, maybe someone . . . possibly his BOND MATE should go and stop him from recklessness."

Cupid managed to look bland as he delivered this, but Pepper shot him a suspicious look that slowly morphed into a knowing and lovely smirk. She pointed an accusing finger at the God of Love, opened her mouth—and apparently thought better of it.

He gave a nod. "It's true—moths are the stable, smart ones, you know. Go see if you can work things out with that drama queen dragonfly, and keep in mind the moon is full."

With that, Cupid revved up the huge Harley and turned the front wheel, navigating the bike around Pepper. He gunned it, churning up more wheat, and raced off, leaving little hunka hunka burning chaff smoldering behind him in a trail. Pepper turned to watch him go as she hugged Augie.

"That man," the penguin grumbled, "isn't wearing a helmet."

"There's a *reason* I keep you on the shelf in the closet," Pepper replied dryly.

*** *** ***

Tony heard footsteps approaching, but he didn't bother moving from his sprawled position next to the brook. He had one arm thrown over his face, and the other hand resting lightly on the back of a plush giraffe.

A foot lightly made contact with his ribcage; Tony gave a chuff of surprise. "Hey!"

"Get *up* Tony," Pepper ordered in a terse voice. "Right NOW."

"No," he mumbled defiantly, peeking out from under his arm and pulling the giraffe closer. "This is MY dream, and if I want to indulge in some soul-torturing despair, it's my own business—"

"Who's the *babe?*" came a strange voice, followed by a chirpy wolf whistle.

This didn't make sense, and Tony lifted his arm to stare up at Pepper. For some reason she was blushing, and trying to grab the beak of . . . a stuffed penguin.

"Augie, I am *this* close to giving you to Goodwill," Pepper muttered.

"Miss Potts?" Tony muttered in a voice that demanded an explanation.

Before Pepper could speak up, the penguin did. "Buddy—The cutie giraffe—she with you?"

"What?" Tony blinked, then glanced down. He picked up his own stuffed toy protectively. "Yes."

"Damn," came the disappointed grumble. Pepper rolled her eyes and moved to set the penguin down. She held out a hand to Tony; he clutched his giraffe a little tighter.

"Miss Clairol stays with me," he murmured. At the name, Pepper bit her lips, hard. Tony made a moue. "Yes, it's from one of the bottles in my mother's bathroom and before you laugh hysterically about it, I'd like to point out that I was THREE at the time, and 'Miss Clairol' sounded like pretty good name for a girl giraffe."

"Sexy to me," Augie agreed. Tony eyed him with renewed suspicion, and Pepper gave a sigh.

"Augustus Fluffman, birthday present to me at age seven. Tony, I need to talk to you. Alone."

"I'm not sure I can trust your penguin," Tony objected. "He's eyeing my giraffe."

"All talk," Pepper reassured him, holding out her hand again. "Seriously."

"Hey, hey, not in front of the ottiehay!" Augie objected. "Don't make me look bad!"

Tony sighed, cocking his head slightly towards his own stuffed companion. "She says it's okay," he announced. Carefully he passed the giraffe with the long felt eyelashes to Pepper, who gently set the plushie next to the penguin up and away from the brook.

For a moment the two of them stared at the stuffed animals. Augie cleared his throat, loudly. "So. Don't you two have things to go off and *discuss?*"

Pepper helped haul Tony to his feet and then yanked him along to the far side of the brook, her actions less than gentle. "Cupid came to see me," she began, her expression a beautiful mix of stern and concern. "There is no *way* I will let you let him . . . go reaching into you. Anywhere."

"Damn it," Tony muttered. He rubbed his nose with one hand, and managed a crooked smile. "Look, what you said, hurt. And it might have been true in the past, but when you walked out, it was as if there was no point to the arc. I mean, why bother keeping it going if the heart behind it is dead? And believe me without you--it is."

"Tony . . ." she blinked. "You . . . love me?"

He said nothing, staring at her intently, and in that long, lovely moment it seemed as if the entire glade held its breath collectively. Tony extended one hand, cupping it tenderly around Pepper's cheek. "Intensely. Devotedly. Contradictorily and yet, unceasingly."

"You're an idiot," she blurted, her voice half a laugh, half a sob.

"Be that as it may, I am *your* idiot, Miss Potts," Tony confirmed, and leaned forward by slow, sweet degrees to kiss her.

The light press of lips to lips gently shifted to something far more sensual as Pepper surged against Tony, slipping her arms around him to pull him closer. He mirrored the gesture, urging her lips to part by lightly stroking them with his tongue, and Pepper laughed, breaking the kiss. "Sweet as this is, and lusty and definitely a step forward, I have to remind you of two things, Tony."

"We can turn the stuffed animals around," he assured her breathlessly.

Pepper laughed. "That's not it. I just want to point out that first of all, we need to um, wake up. Nice as things are in a dream, the waking version is usually much nicer."

"Yeah," Tony agreed, nodding. "Okay, yes, we'll wake up, and you'll come to me and we can pick things up from this point precisely, right?"

"Tony, the second point is that when we do this," Pepper murmured slowly, "we're going to conceive. You *do* understand that, right?"

He took a deep breath. "Yes. I did read up and think about that, and while I'm not a hundred percent sure about it, I don't think anyone ever is. The big question, Pepper, is how do *you* feel about it? I mean, I did sort of spring this situation on you, and even though with your brains and compassion and looks you'll be the best mother on the entire planet, I guess it would be smart to check in---"

"It would be . . . I can do it," Pepper nodded slowly. "I *want* to do it. If this was before, when you were . . . you know, the way you were, and it was just about carrying out the promise, then I'd appeal to Mab to break the Bond, but . . . it's not like that now. You've changed so much, Tony. You will *be* a good . . . father."

He stared at her, searching her face for a long moment, and Pepper blushed, remembering back to when he'd done that before, getting off the plane and seeing her again after Afghanistan.

"God I love you," Tony murmured. "Please come wake me up."


	7. Chapter 7

There are moments in a life tinged with a sense of unreality; moments seemingly too perfect to be genuine and recalled with a hint of disbelief and wonder. Moments that engrave themselves into memory, and carry the weight of every breathless emotion behind them; moments that come back to mind in perfect, sweet clarity and make the heart beat faster even years later.

Tony knew this beat of time would be among the precious few he would treasure, and took Pepper into his arms, savoring the slight warmth of the woman as she matched him, mouth meeting his in an unhurried kiss. She had bent over him, woken him and now the touch of her hair against his face was tangible proof that they were beyond mere dreams.

Pepper's wings stood as beautiful banners in the moonlight that spilled through the glass walls, and the gleam along the brown and tan patterns pulled him. Tony kissed her again, and let his fingers, his palms stroke from her ribs to out along the heavy silk of each one. She shuddered with pleasure, head dropping back, and eyes half-closing. "Tonyyyyy . . ." came her surprised coo.

"They are SO you," he murmured. "Beautiful; understated; sensual." Rising up, Tony felt his own wings glide out in a glorious, full-body response to the sight and feel of hers; to Pepper in all her beauty.

She demurely stepped back, shy as Tony rose up, moving to catch her in his arms, pull her to him; against him in a press of bodies.

Pepper reached out and slid her palms along the top edges of Tony's wings, feeling the warm strength of them. Her fingers trailed along the glassine edges, caressing the lacquer smoothness of their edges, and as she did so, Tony turned his face up blindly to the ceiling, his breathing ragged.

"More," came his soft pleading, "Oh Pepper, please, more . . ."

She gave a soft little moan and let her nails trace along his wings even as Tony himself reached out beyond her shoulders and touched her own, his fingers dappling over the heavy velvet.

It became a slow, breathless sort of foreplay; Pepper pushed him back down, straddled his lap, lips pressed to the side of his throat, her hands dancing along his shoulders and wings, her caresses alternating between firm and soft. Tony shuddered, breathing faster with each stroke of her teasing fingers.

After a few minutes though, he sucked in a deep breath and reached to catch her thin wrists, giving her a little head shake. Pepper sighed and closed her eyes, reluctantly giving up her advantage. Tony tipped his head to kiss Pepper just under her jaw line. "You are . . . devastatingly good at this, oh pretty, pretty Pepper."

"Mmm, Call me an enthusiastic amateur," came her soft moan. "I've never—"

"—Winged it?" Tony punned softly, brushing his fingertips in erotic patterns along the drape of her silky segments. Pepper didn't groan; she squeaked, a sexy sound that echoed in the room. Encouraged, Tony shifted them both, pulling Pepper's clothes off and letting her lie back on the bed, where her wings spread out on either side of her in a glorious expanse of tawny, spotted satin.

Tony carefully leaned over her, bracing his weight on one hand near her waist. He bent close and blew a teasing breath on the fluffy tufts over Pepper's shoulders. She laughed, arching up a little, eyes bright with love and desire. "I've never had anyone touch my wings before," she finished shyly.

"Your first," Tony purred, and then added, "You're mine too, you realize. We're Fey virgins, heh."

"Not for long," Pepper breathed, and slipped her arms over his shoulders. Tony shuddered again, eyes closed, head arching back as she rubbed a delicate forefinger and thumb along the upper ridge of his wings.

"Gaaahtherewillbenocon-CEP-tionifIblowmywadrightnow!" Tony gasped. Pepper fought giggles, and teasingly slid one long leg up along the outside of his, smiling up at him. The feel of her wings spread around her sent sensual shivers along her spine, and Tony's weight over her, pressing them open added to the thrill.

"Okay," Pepper whispered softly, letting her hands fall back along her own wings.

Tony took a few deep breaths and managed a smile at her, bending to drop a kiss on her eyelids and nose, murmuring, "You look so beautiful right now. I will remember you like this *forever,* Pepper."

She sighed, and Tony lightly lowered himself into the loving cradle of her elegant hips, joining sweetly with her, and the lacy shadow of the moonlight through the transparency of his wings dappled Pepper's upturned face in colored shade, like a church window.

Their first time was quick, but joyously fierce; Tony tried to hold out, but Pepper sank her nails into his ass and against that imperiously lustful attack he had *no* defense. He growled, arching his hips and driving himself deeply into her, his wings vibrating with a musical hum around them.

Pepper held him afterwards, whispering loving words in his ear.

The second time, she found herself on top of him, and between the silvery moonlight and Tony's ruthlessly exploring fingers, Pepper came, arching up, wings quivering as she gasped with pleasure. She drooped down over his chest, and the slow drop of her wings tented the two of them in a warm cocoon for a while.

*** *** ***

They talked. They argued. They compromised.

Pepper would move in soon; there were rooms waiting for her here, ready to be converted into an office and nursery. A bed for them to share.

Tony would talk to his lawyers and set up the household policies, parenting plan and documents, setting them into motion immediately to smooth over the legalities.

Together they would find an obstetrician, someone Fey, with experience and discretion.

But they would not marry.

Pepper gently but firmly rejected it, even as she held Tony's head against her bare chest and stroked his hair. "It's too risky. If this was just you and me, then I'd be willing to do it—more than willing. But we have a baby to consider, and I won't let our child be a potential kidnapping victim, or pawn or target for your enemies, Tony."

"You living here, pregnant, giving birth, me totally gonzo over the baby—like that's not going to be *obvious* to all and sundry?" he countered, desperation in his tone. "And you yourself pointed out that people ARE going to ask about the father."

"Yes, and I can decline to state," Pepper pointed out serenely. "Until such time as we both agree it's safer. International terrorists, Tony. People with agendas and weapons. Not all the Fey blood in the world can counter the dangers of being your child."

"Security," Tony agreed. "Serious security. Priority one. I'm not about to let anyone get to you, or the baby. Not going to happen, Pepper."

"I know," she murmured, trying to comfort him. Tony would do what he could, and Pepper accepted that it would be quite a lot. Whether it would be enough remained to be seen, and if subterfuge was required, so be it. She was pragmatic enough and loved him enough to do that.

*** *** ***

Four weeks later, the little plastic window on the testing stick showed two lines. Pepper stared at it. She took out her Blackberry and took a slightly shaky photo of the stick on the bathroom counter, sent it off in an Email, then walked quickly outside the bathroom door.

She counted softly to herself.

At nineteen, the sound of running footsteps charging up the stairs from the garage grew louder. Pepper fought the ache in her face as she grinned and felt tears well up. Tony ran up the second set of stairs, rocketing down the hallway, nearly crashing into her as he scooped her into his arms, squeezing her, his voice cracked and low. "It's real, right? We did it? Baby in the making, right Pepper?"

"We did," she whispered , and cupped his face in her hands, kissing him fiercely.

Tony kissed her back, and pulled away laughing, breathing hard.

"Yes. God, I didn't know . . . I didn't know it would *FEEL* like this! Like flying, like strings of equations singing in my head, like being on the edge of coming! Okay that last one is probably waaay too Freudian, but you know what, Pepper, I don't care, I really don't—" As he babbled, his wings expanded, and Tony pulled his tee shirt off absently, "—Because it's the truth, and oh damn, we need to get to the doctor right now, don't we?"

"Tony, you need to calm down," Pepper laughed. "You're not going anywhere with your wings out like that."

He grinned and looked up, towards the ceiling of the hallway. "Jarvis?"

"Sir?"

"Mark the exact *moment* I opened Pepper's last Email. Put it on the calendar, please!" Tony ordered.

"Certainly, sir. Listing it as . . .?"

"Confirmation of Bundle of Joy, for the lack of anything snappier." He looked back at Pepper, his smile crooked, "how YOU doing?"

She nodded, gulping a grin. "Good, actually." Lightly Pepper laid a hand on her abdomen, which was still flat.

Tony looked down, frowning a little. "Are you *sure* there's anything in there? Because from where I'm looking you're still as sleek as ever."

"I won't show for a while," Pepper assured him with a laugh. "But soon."

Tony gave a shuddery sigh and laid his hand over hers on her abdomen. "Baby. Yeah."

*** *** ***

Doctor Lily Boyer was in practice with her father, Lloyd Boyer, and they were both Mountain Born. Lloyd was Moth; his daughter, Butterfly, and together they were delighted to accept Pepper as an inpatient.

"You're starting in excellent health, both of you. Since the mother is Moth, and your own mother was Moth, Mr. Stark, I'd be getting a nursery read for a baby with that potential," Lily told them. "Lots of night-lights, trust me."

"When is the baby due?" Tony asked with slight impatience. "Nine months, right?"

"Oh sooner than that," Lily replied calmly. "Probably in eight months, two weeks."

Tony shot her a withering look and she laughed. Pepper smirked as well and the atmosphere in the doctor's office lightened considerably. Lily took a breath and spoke up again. "Mr. Stark, your child will be arriving sometime in November, which is going to come a lot faster than you realize. You and your Bond mate here need to do some reading and prepping and pre-emptive care, so we'd better get started, right?"

"Right," Pepper answered serenely, pulling out her Blackberry. "Let me schedule in the appointments, and give you my preferred pharmacy."

"What should *I* do?" Tony mumbled, feeling slightly dejected.

Pepper waited until Doctor Boyer left the room on an errand and leaned closer to Tony, a laugh in her voice. "You could get started on your high-tech promise to Cupid."

Tony shot her a slightly panicked look; a glance of confusion and apprehension. Pepper smirked. "The grapevine. I heard it from Augie who got it from cuddling up to Miss Clairol, who apparently knows a *lot* more about you than you realize, Tony."

"The quiet ones with long legs. They always get me in trouble," he sighed, blushing a little and rubbing his hand over his face. "Going to kill me now, or later?"

"Later," Pepper assured him. "After I've drained you of all your Dragonfly virility."

"Oh goodie," Tony gave her a crooked smile back. "Even though I've been betrayed by a cherished childhood confidante, at least I'm getting the best sex of my life out of it."

"Isn't that always the way?" Pepper commiserated sweetly.

*** *** ***

Tony wasn't completely sure about dreams vs. reality, especially where Cupid was concerned, so he chose reality, and built the forearm rocket launchers, scaling down the bore of the barrel for arrows and taking into account the God of Love's slightly more massive limbs.

They tested well with titanium arrows, although Tony winced with each shot, feeling that the targets were far more likely to explode in a shower of blood and guts than fall massively in love. Still, the point was that they worked, and on a whim, Tony painted them a rich, elegant red, with little gold hearts stenciled on them.

That night, he slept, determined to chide Miss Clairol about spilling his secrets.

"_It's not that I didn't tell you *not* to tell," Tony groused to the stuffed giraffe on his chest as he lay sprawled along the bank of the creek, "It's that I sort of expected you to be a bit more demure around that feathered fluff ball. And frankly what you see in him totally escapes me, because seriously? He's annoying."_

_Miss Clairol said nothing._

"_Oh sure, take *his* side," Tony sighed. "Come on, you're *waaay* too good for him. Sure he's got chutzpah, but you could do SO much better, MC. I could buy you a Steiff in your own species that could drop-kick that arctic asshole across the continent."_

_More silence. Tony rolled his eyes._

"_Oh excuse me--*ant* arctic! Sheesh, someone's in a pissy mood tonight. The way you're snipping, you'd think you were in *love* with that herring slurping creep." _

_The silence turned slightly electric. Tony's gaze at Miss Clairol narrowed. "No. Nononononono!"_

_Before he could argue further with his stuffed confidante, a familiar voice rumbled out through the clearing. "Princeling. I have come to collect my reward."_

_Tony set Miss Clairol down and pointed a silent, accusing finger at her before clearing his throat and looking up at Cupid. "Did *you* know about this?"_

_Cupid's mouth twitched. "Birds do it; bees do it."_

"_Yeah, but giraffes and penguins—" Tony complained. "That's just . . . perverted!"_

"_On such matters, I am blind," Cupid shrugged. "Now I believe you owe me a pair of launchers?"_

"_Yeah," Tony sighed, and crossed the creek to pick up a bundle wrapped in oilcloth. "Here. I wasn't sure of the specs for the arrows, but I could recalibrate if you need me to."_

_Cupid's eyes gleamed red. He picked up one of the launchers and strapped it on, flexing a little and grinning. When the second one was in place, he reached behind himself and produced a pair of arrows from mid-air, and stuffed one into each launcher, moving lightly for such a behemoth of a man. "Very good, Princeling, very good. I'm off to give these a test run. Oh, and congratulations on the conception of your Marsh Born. You're gonna need to pick a Godparent by the next full moon."_

"_Marsh Born?" Tony puzzled. "Godparent?"_

"_Water Born crossed with Field Born," Cupid replied, adding, "Godparent. Very important if you don't want to offend a certain ancient Fey who is already not your biggest fan at the moment." He lifted up one massive forearm and glanced through the crosshairs of the scope, grinning dangerously. "Oh yeah, with these babies I could take on an entire STATE full of prom nights!"_

_Cupid strode over, gave Tony a loving smack on the cheek that sent him tumbling into the stream, and ambled off, whistling, 'Cupid, Draw Back Your Bow,' in a tone that sounded downright menacing. Tony wisely chose to sit in the water until the God of Love departed and wait._

"_What have I done?" he mock-murmured to Miss Clairol, then sighed a second later. "Okay, yes you're right, I just helped launch a romance Juggernaut, yeah, I GOT that. I was speaking rhetorically, actually. And don't think you're off the hook for messing around with Mr. Klondike Bar either, missy."_

_*** *** ***_

"Okay let me get this straight," Rhodey grumbled, still caught between disbelief and confusion. "Pepper's moving in, you two are an item, she's *pregnant* and you're NOT getting married? Is that what you're saying here? Because frankly, it's like I'm getting some weird parallel universe vibe about all this, man."

"Yes, yes, yes, and yes," Tony murmured, working hard at taking apart what looked like a red enamel rocket launcher. "And before you give me the big lecture on 'doing the right thing,' Platypus, please understand that I DID propose, several times, and she shot me down faster than the Red Baron on a hot streak, okay?"

"Seriously?" Rhodey demanded, then softened, "Man, that's harsh. I'm sorry Tony. I am."

"It's . . . a safety issue for her," Tony replied quietly, not looking over at Rhodey. "She's worried some fanatic nutjob's going to try for her or the baby if it's common knowledge that it's mine. Ours." He corrected.

"Can't say it's not a legit concern," Rhodey sighed. "Especially now that you're--"

"—Iron Man, yeah, I know," Tony grumbled. "That damned press conference has come back to bite me on the ass so many times I practically shit teeth nowadays."

"Yeah well," Rhodey commiserated, then gave a grin and punched Tony on the arm. "Congrats, man. Babies are very cool."

"Thanks," Tony smiled back, his expression a little dazed. "I have no basis for reference on babies. Ground zero for me. No database whatsoever and you know what? I'm still . . . jazzed."

"You'll identify," Rhodey snickered. "Food goes in one end, shit comes out the other. They cry when frustrated, bored and cranky. They pee wherever and whenever they want, and they love to cuddle with women."

"Wow, my lost tribe," Tony snickered. "I never knew I was their missing king."

"You said it, not me," Rhodey laughed. "In any case, it is VERY cool, and I'm blown away for you two. If you're looking for a Godfather, count me in."

"Really?" Tony smiled. "Funny you should mention that, because we have a Godmother in mind, and you two would make . . . quite a pair."

"When you say that and smile, I *know* I'm in trouble," Rhodey grumbled, and then sighed. "Ah well, at least you're finally being completely honest with me, right? Upfront and open, no more secrets?"

Tony took a deep breath, and cleared his throat. "Actually . . . I'm a fairy. Just thought you ought to know, Platypus."

End

_(So that's it, all finished. I sincerely hope you had as much fun reading it as I did writing it, and I'm considering a sequel, but I'll hold off on that and see what the general concensus is first. Thanks for following the story and thanks too for all the feedback. You folks are truly the BEST fans!)_


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